When she reemerged after work, her to-go package held a lot more than a sandwich. She handed it to Logan but he set it aside to give her a hand with the trash. The dumpster's sliding door made an ear-piercing shriek as he pulled it aside and started tossing bags as if they were weightless.

"A customer sent back a rib eye," she told him. She even seemed somewhat excited. "Said it was too rare. We can't put it back on the grill once it's off. Tony gave it to me, but I'm not huge on red meat."

"A rib eye?" He picked up the box with one hand and slid the door shut with the other. His look told her a rib eye at this point in time was definitely reason for excitement.

"Yeah," She buttoned up her coat against the wind. "And I heard somebody talking about the hardware store looking to hire. They sell furniture in the back and the owner said he needs somebody strong that can put it together." She turned to see that he'd already pulled a chunk of meat off the steak and popped it into his mouth.

"Maybe you could stop by…" she dropped her eyes and gave herself a mental shake, reminding herself that it wasn't polite to stare.

"You sure you're not an angel?" he asked, smiling. This time Jesse could see it was genuine, that his eyes held a spark of hope. Her thoughts wandered again to who he could be and how he could have lost his memory.

"I'm pretty sure," she tossed back, grinning. The cold metal of the doorknob against her palm snapped her back to business.

"Do you have a warm place to stay?" It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but he shrugged off her question without committing. She'd done as much as she could do, anything more and things would get awkward.

"I'll be alright," he assured her. "You go back inside. I'll check out the hardware place in the morning."

She pulled the door open, heat rising in her cheeks.

"And thank you for helping," Logan added. Jesse turned back and flashed a smile that warmed him more than leather and fleece.

"So what happened to your homeless boyfriend?" Daniel asked one night almost three weeks later. "I ain't seen him outside in a while. You go an' piss him off?"

Jesse stared at him, annoyed. His question didn't deserve an answer. It bothered her that she hadn't seen Logan since the cold spell, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"I think he got a job," she told the dishwasher. "At Buddy's. I've seen him going in and out of there a few times." Buddy's Hardware was across the street and down the block from Tony's, but could be seen - if one positioned themselves in just the right way - from the dining room's front counter.

Daniel shrugged. He didn't really care what happened to the stranger. He was just trying to get a rise out of his coworker. When he pissed her off her eyes started blazing and the color deepened across her cheeks. He knew any chick with her kind of exotic features was out of his league, but that didn't stop him from using his imagination in the middle of the night. He'd undressed the Iroquois waitress in his mind so many times he lost count. Instead of flashing annoyance at him, as she was always doing in reality, in his dreams she stared at him hungrily, dark eyes huge with desire. He was the only one at work who'd noticed her concern over the stranger on the back steps, and the many times she still crossed the kitchen to peek out the window.

"He's not even one of us," he snickered, turning back to a pile of dirty dishes. "You ever need a real man you know where to find me."

Jesse threw a towel in his direction. "Dumbass," she countered, impatiently picking up her orders. She was mad at herself for letting him get to her, but he wasn't the only thing bothering her. She'd hoped that maybe Logan would stop in the diner, but so far that hadn't happened. She figured maybe it was a pride thing. She reminded him of his shortcomings, his need for shelter, and she had long since figured that a guy like him had too much pride for that. Besides, maybe someone at Buddy's had given him a place to stay. Winter was almost over and he didn't really need her anymore. Jesse liked to be needed. It fueled her to do a good job. Everybody in Cedar Ridge knew it. Everybody but her.

Later, as Tony locked the front doors for the night, she announced her intention to walk the five blocks home. It was late and she didn't really care to wait on Tony to drive her. He had yet to balance the register. Jesse's place was close and the walk wouldn't take her long. She was tired and already looking forward to a soak in the tub and then her pajamas.

"I can give you a ride," Daniel grinned, approaching suggestively, and draping an arm across her shoulder. "On my mo…tor… cy…cle."

She slid out from under him, laughing at the childish 'vroom vroom' noises coming out of his mouth. They were hardly a turn on.

"Umm, no. That would be a no, Dan. I'll walk down the alley."

"You're just hopin' to see your boyfriend," he sang to her, snickering as she pulled open the back door and flipped him a bird in the same graceful motion.

"Good night, Daniel." She feigned sweetness, then pushed the door shut in his face. She listened as Tony's voice carried thru the closed door. "Why you always have to be givin' her a hard time, Shithead?"

Jesse laughed and skipped down the steps, pulling her jacket a little closer as she turned toward home.

She'd gone nearly three blocks before she noticed the sound of somebody walking behind her. She'd been too busy peering down each alley that connected with hers, hoping to see Logan. If she hadn't had her head in the clouds, she'd have noticed it sooner: footfalls that matched her own. Slowing when she slowed, speeding up when she gave in to the sliver of fear that washed thru her veins. She wanted to turn and look, to see who was behind her, but she didn't dare.

'Every little thing's gonna be alright…' She tried to calm herself with a mantra she'd heard her grandfather say to her a million times. Unfortunately, the familiar words did nothing to ward off whatever was behind her. Her heart pounded faster when she heard other skittering footsteps join the first. This time she dared a glance over her shoulder. Three toughs she'd never seen before where huddled up behind her. They looked up when they noticed she'd seen them and caught up to her in a run.

"What's cookin' mama?" One of them said. He tried to grab her arm but she pulled out of his grasp.

"Get away from me," she sneered, almost falling backwards in order to stay free. He smelled as if he'd bathed in beer and his eyes danced with an unnatural light. Defiance and fear began to wrestle inside her. She had two more blocks till home, but the alley here was no longer lit by streetlights. Shadows loomed dark and menacing as she turned and started to run. One of the gang chose that moment to stick out a foot and trip her up. She flew head long into the street, forcing herself quickly into a roll in an attempt to get back on her feet. Pain exploded in her shoulder and knee.

"I said get away!" she shouted, this time unable to keep the panic out of her voice. She scrambled backward while the men surrounded her. A cry escaped her as they advanced, laughing. She could tell they were getting excited, dancing from foot to foot with anticipation of the fun they were about to have. The things they said to encourage each other chilled her blood.

Jesse steeled herself and stood up. While her hand had been in her pocket, she'd grabbed her keychain, pushing the keys between her fingers. It wasn't much of a weapon but it was something. Adrenaline began kicking in. If she was going down, she decided she was taking someone with her.

"Come on then," she shouted. "Let's see what you got." Heat began to rise in her cheeks. Her eyes flashed as defiance grew louder than fear. There was enough of her grandfather's blood in her veins to remind her that she was a warrior. She embraced that thought, instead of the panic trying to rise within her.

Two of the men stepped closer, one reaching out and pulling her against his chest.

"I'll show you what I got, bitch," he assured her, speech low and menacing. "But don' be so anxious. Don' you know we boys like to play with our food before we eat it?" He pulled down on her hat as she swung at him. Caught off balance, her first blow flew off course, but her keys found their mark, leaving red welts behind on his neck.

Instead of angering him all three of them laughed even louder, stepping back to make fun of her fumbled attempt at defending herself. They never heard the high-pitched 'snickt' of metal scraping metal, or the low growl building in the shadows.

Jesse screamed once more, lunging forward, and suddenly the alley exploded into action. Logan burst out of the shadows, catching her around the waist and dropping her behind him in one swift motion. He stood in the street, snarling, arms low and stiff, long metal blades flashing in each balled fist. Jesse knew with certainty he could have gutted all three of them easily, but he waited. Her attackers backed away, sizing him up, but only for a minute. Obviously, their stupid quotient was high. As if on signal they descended on Logan in fury, only to scatter with the wind as he kicked the closest one high in the chest. The next was pulled off his feet and dangled by his collar. He hung there, silhouetted by moonlight, six glittering blades inches away from taking off his head. For a second Jesse thought she saw Logan smile.

"You got something to give to me?" he growled, as blood began to trickle down the second guy's neck. Suddenly he lost all bravado and began to whimper. Logan dropped him hard to his knees. At this the last one took off running, leaving his companions writhing in the street, one cowering in fear and one still unable to catch his breath.

"Think you're bad, pickin on a little girl, huh?" He pushed the thug back on his heels. Before Jesse's eyes, the blades disappeared and he sent the guy sprawling with a solid uppercut to the jaw.

"Fuckin' trash," he muttered, shaking his fist as if to get rid of something dirty on his knuckles.

Sirens could be heard now as he turned his attention to Jesse. She hesitated a little at his approach, then sprang into his arms. Her whole body shook as she felt his strong arms wrap around her.

"You're alright, kid. You're safe."

His words of comfort in her ear only fueled a torrent of anger and tears. She shouted something unintelligible over his shoulder and tried her best to get free so she could add in a few more licks of her own. She didn't realize she'd been screaming obscenities till Logan's repeated admonitions to calm down finally sank into her ears. Her only satisfaction was in seeing the three red scratches on her initial attacker's neck begin to swell and seep blood. A police car pulled up and Logan physically sat her down on a set of steps behind them. She was still shaking, but nodded when he told her he was going to talk to the cops.

"Stay right there," he pointed his finger at her. "Just stay. Over there. You'll be alright."

Cold seeped into every fiber of her being as the reality of what almost happened hit her full force. She watched the scene unfold in front of her as if from a very great distance. Flashing red and blue lights illuminated two thugs being cuffed and hauled away. One of the officers came toward her. She recognized him. Ben Greyhawk had been a friend of her family for years.

"Jesse? You ok? You need a doctor? They hurt you?" He knelt down in front of her.

She shook her head no.

"What the hell happened?"

"I just wanted to walk home from work," she started, feeling a flood of emotion as the adrenaline coursing through her tapered off. "I thought I'd be safe. I thought it would be ok. I only live five blocks from work, Ben. This is Cedar Ridge, for God's sake." She held out her hand in a pitiful gesture, revealing the keys she still clutched there. Wiping impatiently at tears that continued to leak from her eyes, she felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders. It was the jacket she'd given Logan. She shuddered and pulled the fabric closer.

"You saved my life," she looked up at Logan. "They would have killed me when they were finished…" The words stuck in her throat. "They were gonna…"

"Shhh," he sat beside her and closed his hand over hers, keychain and all. "It's over now. They're going to jail. Nobody's getting killed on my watch. You're ok."

She stared at him as his words sank into her being like a balm. He'd been watching. He was repaying her kindness by saving her life. She sat still, trying to wrap her head around this concept, until the police and then paramedics were sure she wasn't hurt, then she looked up at Logan.

"Can we go home now?"

The whine in her voice totally disarmed him. He'd just seen her launch herself at three solidly built and obviously dangerous men, but now that they were gone, she sounded like a fretful child.

He nodded, offering a hand to help her to her feet.

By the time they got to her apartment all pretense had dissolved between them. She asked him to stay there at least for the night, confessing that she wouldn't be able to sleep without him there. He agreed, looking around her living room. The whole place was full of Native American artifacts. It intrigued him, and he had to admit, anything would be better than the alley.

The phone rang then and Jesse picked it up, watching Logan as he examined her collection. Tony's voice came on the other line asking if she was ok. Somebody had told him they'd seen her in the alley surrounded by cops. She nearly had to shout into the phone to get his attention and assure him that everything was all right.

"I might take the day off tomorrow tho." She told him, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. He readily agreed. Again, she was sharply reminded of the reality of tonight's events. She sank onto her sofa, grabbing a nearby pillow and holding it close.

"You sure you're ok?" Tony prodded again.

"Yes," she sighed into the phone. "I'm ok. Someone's staying over tonight. I'll call you in the morning."

She hugged her pillow tight and listened as Logan rummaged around in the kitchen.

"You got anything to drink?" he asked, coming around the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Soda, beer, whiskey? You look like you could use… something."

The answer to his question eluded her for a long moment. She was still processing events, and having him here, so close, was causing an emotional overload.

"I think there's some wine in the fridge," she replied, finally becoming impatient with herself. She stood up and took an unsteady step forward, then ran to the bathroom to throw up.

"Maybe wine's not such a good idea right now," he offered, following her down the hall with a bottle in hand. She sat in front of her toilet staring up at him. How could he be so casual when she'd almost just been raped and murdered? He crouched on the floor to get to her level.

"You're safe now," he said, voice low and gravely. "You're ok. We're gonna go on with our lives and we're not gonna let this freak us out anymore. Right?"

"Right," she responded, accepting the cool, damp towel he offered, then reaching up for the bottle of wine.

Back in the living room he reached up to touch the glass of a shadowbox that held a colorfully beaded belt.

"What is this?" he asked over his shoulder.

"That's a wampum belt," she offered. "Given to me when my grandfather died. It tells his story." She watched him take a step toward another artifact, a feather-decorated hunting axe in a frame. He liked that one, turning toward her with one raised eyebrow.

"You could do a little damage with that."

"Just a little." She decided to tell him at some later point that the leather strips dangling from the handle were meant to symbolize scalps taken in battle.

"Very cool picture," he turned his attention to a piece of artwork that took up most of the wall above her television.

"It's a wolverine," she told him. "My grandfather said it's my 'spirit animal'.

Logan stared at her for a very long time. "Really."

"Yes," she said, flopping down on the couch and picking up her TV remote.

"No, don't," Logan said, raising a hand. "Tell me more about this."

She stood to her feet and joined him in front of the painting. It depicted a gray and black wolverine crouching in the forest; mouth bloody from a kill still held under its claws. The trees behind it stood in dark contrast, silhouetted by the moon and snow. Jesse knew it's every line by heart. Not so much for the artistry itself, but because of the prominence her grandfather had always given it.

"It's just a wolverine," she told him.

"And this is a drawing of plans for a long house," she said, moving to another wall. "It's how the Iroquois people lived. Grandparents, parents, children, all in the same house. It's what the word 'Iroquois' means; People of the Long House."

"Why is a wolverine your spirit animal?"

Jesse looked over her shoulder, surprised to see him still lingering over the painting.

"My grandfather told me it came to him. He and my father were doing their sweathouse ritual thing. Don't eat for two days, smoke and sit around a fire putting water in a big pot of hot stones. I was never included…" for the first time she saw the intensity in his blue eyes. It got her full attention.

"Why do you want to know about wolverines?"

He shook his head, as if to clear his mind, but said nothing. Instead, he pulled out his dog tags and Jesse stepped closer to read. She tried hard not to let him see the way the words affected her, covering the impact by over-acting her surprise.

"Oh wow, yeah… I remember that now. Freaky coincidence, huh?"

Logan continued to peer at her, not noticing that his hands had balled into fists and his knuckles were white. "Coincidence," he muttered, turning back to the picture. He half-turned back to her, sniffing the air as though he smelled something funny.

"Wolverines are tough," she said, talking a little louder than necessary in an attempt to cover how one word on a piece of metal affected her.

"Fierce as their brother the bear, but faster and smaller. They are tricksters and ill-tempered most of the time. I don't know why my grandfather thought a grumpy old warrior would protect me, but he was very insistent. He's the one who gave me this painting as a gift. So I would never feel like I was all alone in the world." Her eyes glazed a little as she remembered the old man.

"Silly superstition, I guess."

Logan let out a dissatisfied grunt and turned from the painting. He shrugged but Jesse could see disappointment in his eyes. She wanted to reach for him, to apologize for not having any of the answers he needed, but she held back. She wanted more time to ponder these things on her own.