Disclaimer: Characters courtesy of Dark Angel; no profits made.

A/N: This fic is sort of an AU to my own stubborn history of Logan & his crew. I hadn't set out to update this story during playtime this weekend, and it's not very long, but at least a little something for the holiday weekend (and cheaper than shopping!) Thanks for reading and extra thanks to those of you who reviewed. It helps!

The Only Free Voices – part 2.

With one glance back up toward the hall to assure himself that the staffer wasn't going to pop back in again immediately, Logan slowly opened the cover of the laptop, not really expecting a literal explosion, but wondering what he might be setting in motion as he did. His pulse was starting to ease a little from the pounding alarm he'd first felt, seeing his own eyes suddenly and unexpectedly broadcast back at him, and he forced his thoughts to assess what he knew and what it might mean.

Fact: someone has just done a remarkable job of hacking your hack. They've got skills.

Fact: whomever it was had some reason to take things into their own hands and broadcast an Eyes Only take-down that would have involved research, investigatory resources, and, being that elected officials were involved, probably insiders. Something like that would have taken more than the month or so I've been here – and who knows when they decided it had to be put together as an Eyes Only hack?

Fact: whomever it was went to some lengths to cover my ass for being gone – but why? Did they just get impatient – or did they know Eyes Only was out of commission?

...and if they did ... did they know why? And didn't that mean they'd known Eyes Only ... was me?

Fact... Logan stared at the dark screen for only one more moment before stabbing at the power button to turn it on. I don't have a clue why or who or how....

The computer loaded up as any other would, not too fast, but not too slowly, either ... a good brand but not the best; a newer model but not the most recent. In good shape but some evidence of use...

Anyone here might just think someone retrieved mine from home, he mused. Is that why this one? Already he was convinced that the computer was linked to the Eyes Only hack, and that meant that someone – or someones – knew he was, too...

The screen came to life with a commercial standard screen saver commonly seen around town, a logo for the first retail outlet approved locally to start selling computers and their parts again after the Pulse. They'd been around for several years now and all but had the market cornered. Everything ordinary, mundane, nothing eye-catching or memorable. This guy's good ... has it all worked out, thought of all the little details...

Logan looked at the several icons glowing along the bottom, most to be expected, like anti-virals and power source symbols. He saw a familiar one for reading wireless signal and opened it, scanning down the list for available signals.

Any networks within reach were secured. Damn. Don't suppose the guy who sent this installed anything I could use to... It occurred to him fleetingly to just look in the word processing programs to see if the guy left him a note, but immediately discarded the idea. He's too good at this, and wouldn't be so obvious, would he? If he knows who I am he probably figures I can handle some of the bigger league stuff...

Still, checking the obvious took only a few moments, and Logan discovered no blatant messages or memos in the program files or e-mail account, which had been allowed to gather a few innocuous ads, probably to avoid the oddity of a completely empty inbox. Logan started to methodically scroll through the program indexes, noting a number of programs apparently taking up far more memory than they should be for what was listed. A brief glance at several of the programs' files, however, revealed nothing at all out of the ordinary, and out of curiosity Logan called up the hard drive's properties to find that the humble little computer had been packed with upgraded memory and an operating program usually found in far more elaborate, sophisticated rigs. In spite of himself, Logan's eyes flickered, then narrowed, in his intrigue, and a slow smile started to lift at the corner of his mouth.

Glancing across the room to the simple desk in the corner, its surface devoid of any personal or homey touches, Logan hesitated only a moment before he set the computer beside him on the bed and reached over for the wheelchair at his side. He gave about the same amount of thought to calling for a staffer, as he was supposed to do, before he began the transfer over from bed to chair.

Guess I gotta do this sometime without an audience, he grimaced to himself as he completed his first completely solo, no-one-around-to-catch-him-if-necessary transfer. The last part was more gravity than purposeful move, and it may not have been as graceful as they insisted it could be, but in the next moment the laptop was balanced on his thighs and he was spinning over to the desk, so it had accomplished its purpose. He was determined not to dwell on it ... and the intrigue of the computer and this new 'Eyes Only let him get his mind out of the hospital quickly and back into his mystery...

*******

Logan had lost track of time as he peeled back layer by layer of information loaded into the laptop's programs. He wasn't learning much about the source of this computer yet – clearly only what the person behind it all wanted him to know, at least so far – other than the fact that the guy really knew computers, its related technology, and a good bit of what they could do. Logan didn't quite know yet if the guy was just showing off, or wanted him to know he had these skills, or if he thought Logan would need all the programs and information he'd added. He'd hidden an unfamiliar network's security code over three info sources, one leading readily to the next if the information had been 'unwrapped' slowly as Logan had done. Some of the information he offered Logan in the systems had been produced in the form of a tutoral as well, and Logan suspected they were set up that way because it was part of a package the guy himself created. So you get me this rig ... you get me on line ... what next? Logan's mind was full of questions for the guy, and he felt more and more sure his anonymous source was working up to a meeting of some sort. What is it you want from me? What is it you want me to do?

He worked though the afternoon, finally succumbing on the third demand to leave his room for the four minutes it took him to go to the unit's kitchen to grab a hamburger before the staff shut down lunch then head back to his computer, even managing a few bites of the burger so he wouldn't have to deal with the social worker or nurse or psychologist or whatever other enforcer they chose to send to goad him into eating...

... he knew I'd follow his path, like this, Logan stared at the screen, hours later sipping a cup of coffee one of the afternoon staffers had brought him on her way in, for a change barely noticing the rich brew, the way he laid out programs and hidden files. Who is this guy?

He configured the internal modem to fit the system requirements he'd found embedded in a random file, and an icon suddenly shifted from orange to green as the signal strength for another, completely new secured network was picked up by his computer...

"Hey, Logan," a cheerful voice suddenly appeared behind him. "The staff says you've been up quite a while – how's it feel?"

Logan was startled out of his hand-delivered network, just moments before he'd gotten in, by the optimistic voice of his surgeon, and unobtrusively hit a link to switch his screen over to his less eye-catching mailbox, mentally shaking himself a little to bring his head back to the present. "Hey, Sam." He looked up to see that the doctor wasn't alone. At his elbow stood a tall, bald, muscular man smiling pleasantly at him. "Hey," he added for the other man, and received a silent, friendly nod in return.

"So you're feeling okay, after being up this long?" Sam was asking. "They said you've been at it nearly five hours now. Any discomfort or problems?"

Logan blinked at that, both surprised that he'd been working that long – time here had taken on the speed of drying cement – but that a mere five hours at the computer should be cause for a medical alert. Still, he bit back the irony and shook his head. "No – I'm fine," he shrugged, again feeling awkward at the lack of privacy he felt here, how even Sam came in and asked for updates, seemingly no matter who else was around. That they were usually other medical people never seemed to help...

"Good," Sam nodded energetically, quick to move on to the purpose of his visit. "Logan, great news – this is B.L. Ingrum, one of the best physical therapists we've had here. He left us a year or so ago, but just today came in to say he's back in the area to stay, and would like to get on staff here again. He'd be a great therapist for you, Logan; not that Tina isn't a fine therapist too..."

Logan knew that not only had Sam wanted him to have a stronger, taller therapist to work with his taller frame – Tina wasn't much over five feet – but Sam also thought he could use someone not so easily swayed by his recalcitrance at getting on with therapy. He peered up at the silent, calm eyes at Sam's side and immediately saw all manner of intelligence and strength there. He had a hunch he knew why Sam thought he was so right for the job...

"... but Bling here has a lot of experience and training with younger guys, like you, more athletic types, and can be a great resource..."

Logan couldn't help himself; the name was so unexpected for the man he saw there. "...Bling?" he asked, looking back to the man, almost as if he'd heard wrong.

The therapist just smirked quietly and shrugged. "Nickname," he said briefly. "Nice to meet you, Logan."

He stuck out a large hand and Logan immediately moved in return, returning the handshake. Sam had begun talking again and in his enthusiasm, missed Logan's sudden, stunned look, as he searched the therapist's face with a sudden, questioning urgency.

"... so once he gets set up again here on Tuesday, he'll work with you to get a regimen down – I'll leave it to him to program what's best..."

"Tuesday?" Logan turned to Sam, trying not to seem too thrown. "But ... that's another week, almost..."

"Four days," Sam minimized, used to the emotional roller coaster his patients often suffered after such life-changing injuries. He even found Logan's sudden interest in starting with a new therapist a hopeful sign. "Tina will still be around through the weekend. You won't lose any time."

Logan swallowed, nodded quickly, and realized he needed to find some way to be patient until then. "Sure; okay," he managed, and swore he saw a bit of humor twinkle subtly in the therapist's eyes. "I ... uh ... I'll be looking forward to it," he offered.

"Me, too." The trainer said, easily. "It was a pleasure, Logan. See you Tuesday," Bling took a step back, to leave.

"See you Tuesday," Logan echoed, adding a goodbye to Sam who left with the therapist. He watched their retreating forms for only a moment before he looked down to his right hand, opened it for the first time since he'd shaken hands with the big man ... and stared, intrigued, at the small, silver flashdrive Bling had pressed into his palm...

To be continued...