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.
Finally bringing this Christmas gift to a close. LNR, hope you're still out there and reading!! Thanks to everyone who has stopped by, with extra hugs for all those who have left reviews, comments, and murmurs; extra servings for all of us who still remain here as tried and true M/L shippers. Any thoughts or comments are welcome. Max and Logan, for all time!
Secret Santa
Max stormed out of the quiet penthouse, veering sharply away from the elevator toward the stairway, itching to burn off some of her pent-up agitation by pounding down thirty-five flights of steps. Despite her efforts to ignore the competing thoughts and emotions raging for her attention, Max tried hanging on to her original, angry reaction to the thought that Logan had been behind Jam Pony's buyout, even though that very reaction now set up a series of self-directed jabs, questions and taunts:
What did you think he had in mind? She flew down flight after flight, swinging each turn in a blur. Did you really think he was meaning to do anything but good by helping out? This is Logan, for God's sake!
Max took the turn at the twenty-first floor landing with a little kick and literally bounced off the wall to leap to the next landing with a self-directed snort.
What kind of a jerk are you, to think that bailing out Jam Pony – and Normal – is a bad thing? How many times have you needed a hand and Logan was there for you?
She grabbed the banister at her right and vaulted over the stairway's open side onto the flight below.
So what if he just anticipated the need?
She took only half of the flight on the top half of the steps between eight and seven, just bounding down the rest in one impatient leap.
He might have done it so you wouldn't lose your job, you think about that?
She came to an abrupt halt on the landing of the third floor, suddenly still and staring at the floor, knowing she'd lost the argument with herself.
So what's the problem with you, anyhow?
She wavered only another second, before walking down the rest of the steps at a more normal pace, still annoyed, still creeped out and bitchy and bugged by it all ... and still not any more certain why than when she'd arrived.
What kind of a jerk are you, to be suspicious of Logan – after all he's done for Seattle – and you?
She pressed open the heavy steel door and crossed into the hushed, elegant lobby, managing a smile of thanks for the familiar doorman who, as always, watched out for her dilapidated Jam Pony bicycle as if it were a designer sports car. She grabbed it and walked it out into the icy, slushy mess that was settling in for the day, the morning's news, her reaction to it, and all that went with them both still leaving her unsettled and irritable.
**************
She'd been gone from Jam Pony barely thirty minutes, and walked in to find it transformed from the one she'd left earlier, the mood of the place now warming away the grey, dank cold and chill around them outside. About half the riders were still there, but no longer circling Normal – and no longer voicing the skepticism they'd shared with Max about the new owners. Instead, Druid and Herbal were near the front, shaking off icy rain as their grins made it clear they hadn't even noticed the weather. Along the entry stood the reason for their dampness and their grins: a dozen gleaming, brand-new five-speed bikes, glittering with drops of the icy sleet as they waited for a quick rub down by Druid. "Hey, Max," he grinned up at her. "Look what the new bosses just dropped off. And they got more coming in a few days."
She paused a moment to stare, then glanced at her old piece of junk, missing several parts, others held on by layers of plumber's tape. She managed a smile and a nod, then went on inside, past Normal's desk. She saw Sketchy with a granola bar stuck in his mouth as he lifted first one, then a second, flat of juice into the old, dilapidated refrigerator. He too grinned to see her. "Hey, Max. Hungry? We got food bars and some apples and bananas and stuff – all free," he gestured over his shoulder.
"You sell out too, Sketchy, just for some free food?" Max's irritation flared again.
"Well, yeah," he shrugged, with a grin. "If ya gotta sell out, ya might as well eat."
"I can't believe this..." she shook her head.
"Max, it's all good," Herbal came up, smiling broadly now, "it's the real thing. My woman, she has a cousin, and the cousin work at the food co-op on South Street, the one Benlo bought last year. See, on the flier," he gestured to one of the hand-outs on the table. "She tell my woman that Benlo bring them business, treat them very well. They keep all the promises they make to the people there. My woman's cousin has been to some of the other businesses, the clinic, and all of the Benlo businesses seem happy too. Max," Herbal's smile was dazzling. "This Benlo company is okay."
It was too much.
Max managed to mumble something in response before slamming over to her locker, yanking it open to rummage around inside, mainly needing an escape. Were they all crazy? No, if Logan was involved, it probably was all good, all 'sunny' and hopeful. It still felt – wrong. It felt off; it felt like an intrusion. As if he didn't trust her with her own life.
Is it that it's not part of the quid pro quo, like you're going to owe him for it all? Why is this bugging you so much?
"Hey," a cheerier than usual Original Cindy plopped down beside her in front of their lockers and pulled hers open, too.
"Not you, too," Max moaned. "Tell me you haven't been taken in by all this, like they have."
"Boo, you know that Original Cindy is the first to question the motives of any whack do-gooder out there, but Herbal found out that it's the real thing. An' no sellin' your soul for it. Didn't they tell you?" When Max nodded glumly, Cindy looked at her almost as skeptically as she'd eyed the fliers that morning. "What do you have against gettin' a little of the good life back?"
Max slammed her locker closed and rolled her eyes. "Nothing. If you believe it's all as innocent as it seems."
"It's an honest business, Max, and they willin' to take care o' their employees. Nothin' wrong with bein' a little happy about that." Original Cindy leaned back against the lockers, giving her an odd, cautionary look.
"Except this is all from the crowd who drugged the insides outa Normal and put on a Hollywood production to run off Mr. Sivapathasundaram – and from you, who was preaching that something smelled rotten about whole thing." Max insisted, her voice taking on a sarcastic edge. "Now, not thirty minutes later, you're gonna marry the boss's daughter and the gang is singing Christmas carols to this Benlo place." And I suppose I'm a jerk for not being grateful, now, too? "Forgive me for being a little behind on the whole celebration thing."
Original Cindy took a long look at her friend, then drew a breath to say, cooly, "Not all of us leave here at the end of the day to have someone cooking us a fancy, four course dinner." Her voice was low, sober, and direct – and she watched her friend's expression shift as Max caught on. "Some o' yo' peeps here ain't had a week go by that they don't miss a meal – or two – or more. They go home to three o' four hungry mouths to feed and they make sure those babies eat first. Some o' them will be a lot better off with a few pieces of fruit and some energy bars, Max – their families, too." Cindy's tone was distant but even, as she stood up, shutting her own locker door. "You have a right to yo' opinion about what's goin' on – but you might also think about why yo' peeps are happy right about now. While you up in that penthouse with hotboy, up there in the clouds... the rest of us are here on the ground, jus' tryin' to get by."
And as Cindy walked away, Max was left, stunned, with a new perspective on things – and a whole head full of new thoughts and feelings to sort through...
**************
Logan had sat in the quiet penthouse for a good fifteen minutes after Max had gone, wondering how he could have done things better, wondering if he should have done it at all, before finally coming to the realization that, even if Max was angry with him for it, Benlo's buyout of Jam Pony was for the greater good.
And I always do what's right ... right?
He knew it would bring the employees – Max, and her friends – better working conditions, better nutrition ... better quality of life. It certainly wouldn't hurt anything.
Well, nothing other than his relationship with Max. Whatever that was.
He sighed. Why does everything with Max have to be so complicated? he wondered, but almost immediately conceded, well ... not everything. In a weird way, everything was easier than it had been with Valerie – with Max and him now, almost every fight or frustration could ultimately be traced back either to her unusual beginning, or his recent injury, or both. With Valerie, it was her, or it was him, depending on whom you asked. With Max and him ... it was something outside of them both, making it easier to see themselves as blameless for whatever tantrum or tirade came along...
He actually smiled a little at that, then chuckled ruefully. What do you know, he marveled wryly to himself. Who'd've thought there'd be an upside to it all...
And just where did you get the backbone to think of you and Max in comparable terms of you and Valerie? he prodded himself, almost raising a blush even though he was alone.
It was enough to shake off the darker part of his mood.
Ah, Max, I'm sorry, he mentally apologized to her. I keep trying, and I get it right only about half the time. Do you see through me yet? He mused on that thought for a while, then dared to also wonder, in the silence around him, and does that make any difference?
**************
He'd tried working after Max had left, but was distracted. He found himself flipping back through e-mails he'd gotten from his cousin as he had finalized the deal with Jam Pony, gotten leads on what investments to make early on to help boost their efficiency and their quality of work and work environment. Logan was reminded how he'd felt in first reading the notes, satisfied and pleased, seeing nothing but good things for Max and her friends from the buyout. Even now, he felt the same, only now holding the additional hope that Max would see it this way too, eventually...
He heard his door, the alarm system keyed and reset knowledgeably. Bling wasn't due until much later, but .... Max? He hadn't expected her for at least a day or two, given her exit...
But it was definitely Max who reappeared in his doorway, her expression again undecipherable. As he looked up at her quizzically, she paused, fidgeted, then looked up to meet his eyes. "Hey," she said, low.
"Hey," he returned, his eyes not leaving her.
She wavered in the doorway only another moment or two before coming around to sit again in the desk chair in which she'd confronted him only a few hours before. After another moment or two of silence, something clearly on her mind, she shifted to jam her hand into her pocket then pull it out again, extending it under Logan's nose in an almost abrupt gesture. "Here," she announced.
Even if he hadn't seen the deep, shiny red of the apple she held, he'd have recognized its subtle sweet scent, preserving a bit of the fall in the dreary winter's day. "What's this?" he tried, blinking in his surprise.
"A piece of fruit," she clipped, all attitude.
He laughed in a soft snort. "I can see that, Max." His eyes held his patience, and Max fidgeted again, glancing away.
"It's a piece of fruit ... from Jam Pony. From a bowl of fruit. In the fridge. For the riders." She finally looked up to make eye contact. "Something new, because, you know ... the last guys who owned it didn't really care if we were eating or not."
He wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes – a contriteness? Not exactly ... but something had settled within her since he last saw her. He nodded, a faint smile on his lips, as he waited to see what had happened since she'd stormed out earlier. "So I'd heard."
She snorted softly. "What kind of owners care if their employees eat?"
He looked at her, long, seeing the growing acceptance in her eyes, leaving her only a tiny, lingering doubt that others could be so altruistic. He suddenly grinned, anticipating her reaction to what he'd say. "Well, Max ... you're in a group of employees who won't give maximum output if they're undernourished, or weak, or sick. A little money spent to keep you hydrated and fueled with some healthy snacks would probably be worth three times that in productivity."
He was right. Her eyes sparked with not only the humor in the situation, and what he was offering her, but with how easily she could believe just that, and how the fact that something just might be in it for them, too, made all the difference in her acceptance level. "You think so?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.
"Bet there's even been a cost-benefit study on it. They do analyses on those kinds of things all the time and in this economy, I bet a lot of businesses have to deal with a less healthy workforce. Adding improved nutrition and hydration, offering free or low cost medical checks or even preventative care when you need it, probably is cheaper than getting weaker performance from each of you every day, or losing each of you a few days each month because of colds or worse. Jam Pony needs you all fit and alert and healthy. What Benlo has added all just turns around to making it more likely that Jam Pony messengers are quick and efficient at their deliveries, and are dependable for being on time, on the clock, a full day, every day."
"Those bastards!" Max's eyes twinkled in delight now – and some relief – with her faux indignation, and his easy acceptance of her showing up again, even after her scene earlier. "Make us healthy, will they, all just for their own greed? Just like I figured..." she teased, seeing that Logan seemed content with her way of making amends, and with that felt even more fondness for this crazy do-gooder. She sobered a little at that and said, sincerely, "Logan – I was an ass. A ... scared ass, but an ass..."
"Scared?" he echoed, surprised. "Why, Max?"
She hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I think ..." She paused again, and shook her head. "I think it's something about ... about owing people. About too many debts, too many ties, in case ... you know... in case I have to run again, I haven't left things unfinished. I haven't owed more than a few people in my life for anything, and I've paid almost all of them back. As long as I keep things that way, and I don't owe anyone anything..."
He waited; she didn't finish. He tipped his head to the side, thinking, then offered gently, "there's more to life than everything adding up to pluses and minuses, Max."
"Or quid pro quos," she whispered.
"Way more," he nodded. He considered her for a moment, then said, in all seriousness, "Max, you have my word that Bennett and the company will look at Jam Pony and all its employees the same way as it does all its other companies – no more, no less. They do good work for their companies. I think you and everyone will be pleased. If not, bring it up with them. And I promise you it's not about any quid pro quo or payback for Bennett, other than the little black lines in a ledger book he can show Uncle Jonas at the end of each quarter. Every one of those companies is helping him out with his father, and that sort of help doesn't come all that easily. So he's getting a benefit, too, a big one that makes him very happy."
"And you?" she dared. "What's in it for you, Logan?"
He smiled softly, quiet for a moment, then lifted the apple. "A piece of fruit," he said. "And a chance to see something in this broken economy that actually is a win-win situation."
Max considered him, finally deciding that he was being entirely truthful with her, as crazy as it all might seem. She finally snorted and laughed softly, shaking her head. "Whack do-gooders," she repeated, this time aloud.
He tossed the apple from one hand to the other a couple times, then said, "think you'd like to have dinner with one of the whack do-gooders?" His expressive green eyes glittered as he awaited her response.
"Yeah, but let me bring dinner." As she saw surprise – pleased surprise – cross his features, she confessed, "a peace offering? I'll bring something after work."
He tipped his head, accepting graciously. "Thank you, Max."
"Don't spoil your appetite," she stood and tugged her jacket down, zipping it up against the elements.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he promised. "Anything you need me to have ready? Or should I pick the wine?
She shrugged, fighting the grin that threatened to appear as she tried to seem unmoved by his widening smile. "I'll take care of everything this time." She crossed to the hall, pivoting with a flourish in the doorway as she lifted her eyebrows, a cocky grin on her beautiful features.
She was toying with him, and his grin lifted even higher to see it as he waited.
"Not sure exactly what it will be yet," she drawled teasingly, as she leaned back toward him, palm on his computer desk and her face coming almost nose to nose with him. Seeing his eyes widen in anticipation, she whispered as provocatively as she knew how, "... but plan on energy bars and fruit..."
**************
The end ... or the beginning?