Disclaimer: Characters courtesy of Dark Angel; no profits made.
A/N: Sorry for the delay and the shorter installment, but as with everyone else, RL has been commanding all waking hours... Here's a bit of an update to the pre-Pilot mystery. If you're still there and reading, please let me hear from you! Are there any M/L readers left out there?
The Only Free Voices – part 4.
"Old journalist's habit ... "
Logan licked his lips tentatively as he typed. Even with the intrigue of this cryptic faux Eyes Only, he registered how good it felt to have the keyboard under his fingertips again, always one of his primary tools for ferreting out the unseen, especially in recent years, as worldwide internet access once again became more and more fruitful. Already he was wondering what tone to take with this guy, how far to push him. Maybe he could again track down a mysterious source... "We just seem to be up and awake, rooting around in things, when everyone else is sleeping..." he offered, in the hope that the guy would respond with something solid. "Is that what's keeping you up?"
The several seconds passing without response dragged by like years for Logan, nearly making him worry that he'd started off on exactly the wrong foot with his unseen benefactor. But the quick resumption of text painting across the little text box let him breathe again. "Something like that."
The text stopped, daring Logan to pull the information from his correspondent. Despite the clear indication that this guy could provide as secure a line as available these days, and the obvious invitation to engage in discussion, Logan still couldn't be sure of the guy's motives, even how secure the connection really was. He typed, tentatively, "so is it you I have to thank for the laptop?"
The words came a little more quickly this time. "I thought you might need your computer."
So in one phrase he confirmed that it was indeed he who sent the laptop, and that he had indeed intended to make it appear to be Logan's own, nothing special.
...and you keep thinking this is a guy... Logan reminded himself. You don't even know that for sure... Curiosity made him a bit bolder. "How were you able to get into my place to get it? I thought everything was pretty secure." Logan hit the send button and sat back. Will he tell me how the hell he figured out who I am?
"You forgot that you had it with you, when you were injured. I was just able to get your effects from the investigators."
Well, damn. Logan stared at the screen, musing at the response. Just a quick-witted reply to throw off anyone tapping into our conversation? A suggestion that either Matt or someone with the SPD either tipped him ... or was it? Was this guy on the other end someone with the police department? It couldn't be Matt – could it? Logan frowned, wondering what to say next, when the screen filled again.
"I thought you might want to get back to work, since you're up there with time on your hands."
Logan's eyes narrowed. Back to Eyes Only, did he mean? Maybe he didn't realize that Eyes Only had been pretty well tossed from the game... "I don't know that I still have a job," he typed, the thought more painful when put onto the screen, as if making it more real. "I'm not exactly going to bounce back from this one, this time."
"You seem to be doing just fine." The response was immediate. "Working fingers ... working brain."
So what did this guy know? "But not much past that," Logan wrote back.
"How much more do you need?"
The question was almost accusative; Logan had a moment of complete surrealism as he found himself wondering if this was some future – or past – self, voicing the questions and fears and questions roiling around in the back of his head since he'd regained consciousness and was told the extent of the damage he'd suffered. What's going to happen to Eyes Only, now that you're all but immobile? Who will take up the cause? Who's going to run the investigations, make the connections? How much of what you did before can be done without legs and feet and a fast getaway?
He answered the only way he knew how at the moment. "Good question."
This time the reply was only a beat behind the others. "You might be surprised."
"And you would know how?" This time it was Logan's turn to be accusative, his defensiveness nearly letting him forget just how much this guy actually did know, enough to figure out his alter ego, enough to plant all he had in this unassuming laptop. After a few moments without response, Logan's mangled sense of self kicked in and he realized he was feeling the strain of it all – the shooting, the isolation, and more than anything, this mysterious computer geek who seemed to know all his secrets. "Nevermind," he typed moodily. Maybe I should just call Matt and confess it all, before this guy outs me, Logan started to consider, maybe he can figure out some way...
"I'm sorry," the surprising words rolled across the screen. "I know it's been only a few weeks. Don't forget I have some more material I can offer to tide things over, until you're ready to get back at it. But I'm confident that you'll find you can get back to work. Maybe a few alterations here and there, but trust me, you can. Just ask Bling when you see him on Tuesday."
Bling! He'd already forgotten about the therapist, the one, corporeal person in all this craziness, his human connection to this disembodied correspondent... "So how exactly do you two know each other?" Logan typed quickly, knowing he wasn't likely to get a straight answer but suddenly craving more information about this newly developing connection...
"An old friend. A very resourceful friend to have around."
Was this guy suggesting that this Bling person could be more than just a physical therapist? He immediately rolled his eyes at his slow-wittedness; the man had already served as a courier for his on-line contact, and at the very first moment, too, in the middle of introductions.
"... but it's late – even for journalists," his contact was typing. "Get some sleep. We can talk again later."
Logan suddenly wanted nothing more than to stay up all night talking with this person. No matter who or why or how, he was the one person in Logan's world at that moment who knew just who he was, why his injury and hospitalization might have effects beyond just himself – and who spoke as if there might be some way out of the fix in which he now found himself. "I'm not tired. All I do here is sleep," he elaborated, realizing he sounded like a cranky – and lonely– child. After a moment, he added, "and I haven't begun to thank you for..." Logan paused to find the right words, "... your generous help, while I've been here."
The words seemed to reel out a bit more slowly this time, in response. "No thanks needed. Consider it my thanks for your own work. And even if you don't need much sleep, I could use some – it's been a long day. We'll talk later. As for you – if you don't want to sleep just yet – at least you have your laptop now. Why not catch up on everything that's been happening since you've been away?"
Another push to get him back to work? This time Logan felt less insulted, maybe even a bit appreciative. Whoever this clown is, he seems to think I can get back at it. "Understood," he typed, actually feeling a bit of calm lingering after his discussion with the faceless stranger. "I will. And ... thanks," he wrote again.
"Good night, friend," the words scrolled. "I'll be in touch..."
...and with that, the dialogue box and all the conversation they'd had vanished from his screen...
The sudden evaporation of his connection to the outside world made Logan feel an immediate pang of loss, but it came and went quickly as he let the conversation turn over, rapidly, in his thoughts. Who is this guy? I didn't learn anything more about him; I have no reason to trust him ...
...but he did. Logan knew he might be suffering from events or loneliness or any manner of delusions in thinking the guy meant him only well – but he did. Given the hack, given that the guy stepped in to assure Seattle and all those who wished her harm that Eyes Only was still out there, fighting the fight, given that the guy had gone to such lengths to establish contact with him and start pushing him to get back on the horse...
That's a whole lot of work, when if all he wanted to do was to hurt me or Eyes Only he could have done so by now, with a lot less effort...
Logan sighed, stared at the empty screen, and considered the status quo. His plans for the future, for his work, his very life, had been on the mother of all roller coasters over the past weeks; his secrecy, his safety and very altered life had been turned around several times over the last few hours. What if this guy is right? he dared to imagine. What if Eyes Only doesn't have to walk to keep working?
He leaned back, wondering just how possible things might be. He glanced back at the glowing screen, waiting silently for his commands to get back to work.
Oh, what the hell, Logan thought as his fingers flew back over the keyboard. At least I can do what he says and catch up on everything that's been happening since I've been away...
To be continued...