DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters, lines and situations borrowed; no profits made.

A/N: Please see the A/N in Chapter 1 for LNR's wish list which prompted this story. All reviews, comments, grumbles and groans welcome!

Secret Santa

December 12, 2019

Not even 8:00 a.m. yet, and Logan had been at the computer for nearly three hours, despite the fact that as usual, he hadn't crawled into bed the night before until nearly 2:00. It wasn't like he was getting a lot accomplished; he was too distracted.

He snorted at himself and pushed abruptly back from his desk, grabbing his empty coffee cup to head back out to the kitchen for his third – or was it his fourth? – of the morning. He allowed himself a rueful grin at his jumpiness, its cause making his grin soften in his hopeful mood. Ever since Bennett had called, telling him that the deal with Benlo had gone through, the small surge of accomplishment he first felt gave way to a hope that this would make Max happy, that he'd found a way to do something meaningful for her and for the motley group at Jam Pony, all of whom had become almost as important to her as her Manticore siblings.

He tried to tell himself he was simply insuring continued employment for his number one operative, giving her reason to find Seattle to be a good, dependable place to stay, employment that came with her very own, established pass through the city, making her well known to many of the sector police and business establishments in the central business district as a Jam Pony messenger. He'd reminded himself several times that week how Eyes Only really would have hated to lose that handy connection, and that the buy-out was simply a safety net for his own work. The fact that Max and her friends might benefit, too, just made it a better thing all around.

And as he had, several times that week, he found himself lost in thought about her, about her crackling, smart ass approach to things, her hidden, vulnerable side, her deep, dark eyes and velvet skin...

He caught himself, blinked a bit, and poured himself another mug of coffee. Snapping the lid back on the travel mug that he found not only kept his coffee warm longer, but cut way down on the spills and sloshes as he carried the mug back nestled between his thighs, he crossed back past the computer room and on out to the big, rain streaked windows of his front rooms.

The morning gloom outside hadn't lifted, but Logan barely noticed how the clouds just became thicker and more threatening as the morning wore on, and only heard without hearing the silvery, rippling sounds of wind-driven sleet against the glass. His thoughts were miles away, knowing that this was the morning, maybe even this very minute, Max would be hearing about the buy-out and the hope for a more stable future for Jam Pony.

The image made him smile. He tried to imagine her reaction – would she really understand how close the place was to closing, and how solid Benlo was now, so that continued operation of Jam Pony was as good a bet as anything in the economy these days? The feeling of jumpy anticipation, of hope that this would bring a smile to her face, had kept him from getting more than a few minutes sleep here and there all night, and he suddenly realized how adolescent he'd become with it all.

Over the years as Eyes Only and as the wealthy heir of a wealthy family, Logan had been the source of or connected to countless acts of charity and selfless generosity. It had been a way of life for generations of Cales, and he rarely gave it much thought. He never expected fawning gratitude for his "good deeds;" in fact, he scrupulously sought anonymity for them: growing up in a family with a long history of charitable contributions and his own efforts first as a journalist then as EO, he was used to – and more comfortable with – being ignored, not thanked. He not only preferred it, he knew that in this economy, advertising that one had the means to fund such a project just opened them up to countless pleas for money, even targeted them for theft, kidnapping, all sorts of scams. In fact, with this project, with Benlo as the buyer, there really was no reason Max would have to know it came from him.

But this time he held a tiny hope that Max might figure it out, so she'd know he thought about her and tried to help. At one point, early on after the sale, he got a case of cold feet for not having told Max about his plan ahead of time, wondering if she'd figure things out and somehow misunderstand his intentions. Max was unpredictable about when she was put off by his using his resources to help, and when she took a free meal or other handout without batting an eye, but he had no doubt that it was all very clear in her own mind. She honored her promises for their quid pro quo assiduously, he knew, but he just couldn't always tell what constituted a debt – or a payback – for her. All he knew was that he found a need, had a means to help, and to help a lot of people important to Max, all in one mention of Jam Pony to his cousin. He really wanted Max to know this time how much it meant to him to be able to make things good for her and her friends...

He felt his cheeks warm involuntarily at his fantasies of Max's reaction, and he was glad that she wasn't there to catch him, mooning like this. All just because of playing Santa with Jam Pony? he asked himself. What's gotten into you?

Mission creep.

He suddenly laughed, the quiet sound breaking the soft drumming sound of the sleet, as Zack's words echoed back in his head, but in a very different context this time.

Mission creep.

He remembered that, even as bad as things were at that time, when he'd heard Zack's words they'd caught his attention. It was a pretty cool term for the idea – and sounded even better.

Mission creep mission creep mission creep.

He laughed again, his anticipation making him feel surprisingly lighthearted and hopeful. Yeah, "mission creep" wasn't a bad term for what he was feeling, a wholly inappropriate and overblown anticipation for what Max might think of the buy-out. That's Zack's fault, too, Logan told himself. "She stayed anyway. Because of you," Zack had said, and from then on, from the time that Max was back safe at his place, he'd allowed the words to bring a little more light into his world. He fought every day to keep from reading too much into them, but he couldn't fight the fact that Max stayed in Seattle, refusing to go with her brother for whom she'd spent a decade searching, because of him. Even his early efforts to try to warn himself that she did so only out of guilt fell flat when he watched her closely, listened intently, and searched each nuance to read what Max might be thinking...

She stayed anyway – because of you, he told himself proudly. And at that very moment, Max was learning that staying in Seattle would be made a bit easier, her job more secure. With the thought, Logan sighed contentedly and watched the sleet streak his window, feeling not chilled or grey in the least...

Yeah, not a bad term for what he was feeling.

..............

In retrospect, he'd always wonder what in the world let him convince himself that Max would like surprises.

He'd managed to stop mooning about her and her reaction after twenty minutes at the window, and had been back at the computer for another forty minutes or so when he heard his security system's code entered and his door opening.

"Logan?"

If the snapped tone hadn't warned him, then the quick sounds in his entry and no-nonsense, striding sound of her boots on his wooden floor did. Logan didn't believe in coincidences, and the sound of her voice and the strength of her step on this particular morning let him know that Max suspected him. Already. And to his rising concern, her reaction didn't sound as if it was the enthusiastic, romantic, grateful delight he'd imagined as he stared past the sleet and daydreamed...

Even Max couldn't know everything, not that fast, he allowed denial to try telling him. Maybe it's something else entirely...

"Logan, " she repeated as she rounded the divider into his computer room. She didn't look angry, actually, just – determined. Intense.

"Hey." He tried for brainless pleasantness, smiling up at her. He wondered if his voice sounded as strained to her ears as it did to his as he fought for an innocent appearance.

"What do you know about 'Benlo, LLC?'"

"Benlo," he repeated as he let his eyes swing back to his computer monitor, trying to keep his features neutral as he let his fingers dance across the keyboard. Buoyed by the reprieve she unwittingly provided, he figured, just as I would do with anything else she'd have, act as if she's asking for a quick check on the...

"Not your sources. You," she demanded.

But his fingers were faster; the company's website had popped up to help him out. "Same as here," he nodded to the screen. "They're ..." His finger found the information and he poked at it, to get Max's eyes on the screen and away from him. "...a holding company for small service providers in the Pacific Northwest. Let's see..." he tried to stifle the urge to glance up and see if Max were still glaring at him. He let his finger trail across the screen to the companies listed. "They have about a dozen companies here – the Pike Street Co-op ... a home-repair company ... a couple daycare programs ... and here, an organic nursery and an Indian grocery ... a community co-op medical clinic..."

"Logan!" She interrupted his slow, stalling recitation of the businesses listed on their site, and when he looked up she had her hand on her hip, definitely looking as if she was starting to lean more toward anger than she had before.

Maybe too much stalling? he wondered, before it occurred to him that his passive reaction to her intrusion probably gave him away as much as anything. He frowned, and blinked in honest confusion, "what'd I do?" Is she really angry that we bailed them out? Not even Max can interpret a good deed as a bad thing – can she?

"That's what I'd like to know," her retort was immediate. Max considered him for a few moments, and then abruptly tried, "so tell me you never heard of Benlo before just now."

He blinked, frowned again, and managed, "I can't. I'd heard of them..."

"How?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable with where this was going. "With other business stuff. A local holding company..." he repeated.

"From whom?"

His shrug this time was more fidget than shrug. "My cousin." He made the mistake of glancing up to meet his eyes and she had him, he knew...

Her eyes narrowed. "Who's your cousin? Some big wheeler dealer..."

"No!" he blurted, "no, just the opposite. Look – Benlo happened because he was just trying to live up to his father's expectations." At Max's shrug and look that demanded more, he explained, "my uncle thinks that you're not a Cale unless you can make a killing by the age of twenty five. He was on the lookout for some investments a few years ago, and decided to try some local business development. He ended up looking around at holding companies, and ... started to try doing the same thing by investing in some small local businesses. To his credit, he's not quite the mercenary his father is – and he looked for places that were doing good in the community, trying to help others survive the depression but needed a hand themselves to keep from folding."

Max's dark eyes bored into his. Not sure now where this was going, but seeing 'guilty Logan' all over his face now, Max turned for only a moment and grabbed the desk chair behind him. Spinning it closer, she plopped down in the chair so she was eye to eye with Logan and said, tersely, "okay, Logan, spill – all of it. No red flags in this at all, are there? A sugar daddy company suddenly coming in to help the little guy? What's got you looking like you want to bolt, and what gives with this company 'Benlo?' Sounds to me like maybe Eyes Only has gone commercial." Her eyes missed nothing; she watched Logan's expression as her tirade seemed to have blindsided him, but he clearly knew what she was talking about. She snorted. "Maybe whatever it is isn't exactly the same as you breakin' into my place to steal my tryptophan, but right now it's starting to feel a whole lot like it."

Logan blinked in honest surprise at that. Stung, he tried, "Max, it's nothing like..."

"So what is it like, Logan? It's just a coincidence that someone in your family finds out about a busted up place like Jam Pony? What's the catch?"

Despite his gut telling him all sorts of ways this might have gone, it simply hadn't occurred to Logan that Max would see this buy-out – and his part in it – as a threat, or an intrusion, or as meddling, which was what he sensed from her now. He tried to understand it, but couldn't help the niggling hurt he felt at her reaction. All he could remember was that hope he'd carried, even up to her appearance that morning, that she when she eventually figured out his involvement she'd know he cared. And you got it wrong again, didn't you? he jeered his inner romantic.

"No catch, Max," he said softly, trying to focus on that part of him still trying to understand the invasion she must have felt. "Bennett just thought if he could make some money from the investments, he would get his father off his back and at the same time maybe help some local businesses keep afloat. He's tried to find responsible businesses, places that employ at least a dozen people, places that might not have the backing of bigger corporate owners or big commercial returns."

She may as well not have heard him – or anything past his cousin's name. "Bennett?" she demanded. "Bennett – as in 'Benlo.' As in 'Bennett and Logan?'" Her eyes bore into his for only a moment before finding her answer. "This is a company you share with him – Benlo," she confirmed, stressing the last syllable and making it sound more like he'd stolen Jam Pony rather than help buy it. "Am I wrong?"

He wished he could understand why it was a bad thing, but almost felt as if he somehow should have known she'd feel this way. At least a half dozen responses crossed his mind before he finally shook his head and admitted softly, "no – you're not wrong."

With a snort and a visible surge of exasperation, Max was suddenly on her feet and pacing out toward his large windows, her agitation clear but her reaction not so easily defined.

"Max," he followed her, hoping it was just her misunderstanding of their purpose. "Look – this buy-out – it's not anything different that what we've done before – what Bennett has done. It's something he started several years ago," he tried explaining again. "His father – my Uncle Jonas – had been hassling him about investments and his not diving in to create businesses and holding companies the way he had when he was Ben's age. That wasn't really fair, given he had a pre-Pulse rising economy to work with... Bennet's a good guy, Max, and my uncle was just riding him about it. I wanted to help him, so we started talking about what he might do. One thing led to another, and he ended up with a company that did pretty well, buying up successful, independent businesses and letting them remain just as they were, but giving them the benefit of numbers for things like insurance, benefits, advertising, expenditures. And after the company itself garnered a bit of profit and a few more successful businesses, he'd buy in a more struggling company, or a free clinic, so some of the profits could go to help improve the conditions there. I got into it only to help him finance the initial purchases, then stayed in so he could turn the profits around to buy more companies. It's worked pretty well for the companies he's taken in, too, and he's been able to start looking at places that are even less likely to turn into big money makers. Just last year Ben brought in two more companies needing a hand – one, his sister-in-law's day care, and another, a book store run by a friend from school. And up 'til now, I wasn't involved in any of it, not even locating the businesses after we first talked, because Ben has done a really good job about trying to find places that need a hand." He paused in his rushed explanation, watching for a sign of her reaction, before he added, "Jam Pony is the only one I've asked to bring in."

She was silent for several moments, her back to him as she looked out his window, before tossing her hair and saying in a soft, sarcastic tone, "so being my boss as Eyes Only wasn't enough, you're the boss at Jam Pony now too."

"No," he replied immediately, feeling another blow that she not only seemed to ignore his offered explanation, but that the thought of his involvement in another piece of her life seemed so upsetting to her. "Look, there's no reason I have to have any part of it, or influence anything, or even know what's going on. Bennett does most of that, anyway, and it's big enough now that he's got someone in, helping with management and oversight, so even Ben isn't over your shoulder day to day." Seeing she was unmoved, he added, "you probably won't notice much change; they want the companies to continue as they were. But if there's anything you needed, we can pass it on to him. Or you could," he corrected, "there's no reason you couldn't talk with him. He knows why I have an interest in Jam Pony, so it wouldn't be a surprise. It's just..." Logan finally ran out of steam, and offered quietly, "I had hoped this would be a good thing, Max ... for you ... for everyone there who means so much to you. That's all."

She didn't flinch, and Logan felt what was left of the morning's anticipation and happiness drain away. "Max..." he tried.

At which she spun on her heel and strode, without another word, through the penthouse and out the door.

TBC