DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters lovingly borrowed from Cameron & Eglee, or those taking from them. No profits realized.

A/N: Another busy weekend so another silly litle ficlet published elsewhere as a part of the LJ Lover100 challenge. The prompt (and thus, the title): "Discovery."

DISCOVERY

There.

Staring at him, accusative; shrieking its hideous, insistent truth like a banner writ large across the heavens. Of all the events that had pummeled Logan Cale – death, injury, plague – none could best what he faced now. Here, this... this...

There.

Logan continued to stare, fixated, curled down like a question mark to gape at the middle of his bare, sculpted chest, still damp from his shower, unmoving, rigid even, his hand frozen mid-air. After several moments, his hand, its movement infinitesimal, slowly moved toward a spot mid-chest upon which he'd fixed his laser-like gaze...

Max finally capitulated, unable to wait him out. "What?" she insisted, her voice full of affectionate exasperation and occasionally tested patience. No blood, so whatever it is, it must just be Logan being ... Logan. She waited, and saw his eyes move slowly up to hers, the shocked, mute expression carrying the horror, his eyes wide, jaw left open, stunned.

They stared at each other for long moments, frozen like that, until Max's eyebrows again went up and she shrugged, hand lifted in question, silently urging him to spill.

His jaw snapped shut; his eyes snapped down. "Nothing." He clipped.

"Oh, come on." The inevitable eye-rolling followed. "A scene like that and you tell me it's nothing?"

He looked back up to her quickly, frowned, and looked away again, now with his own petulant shrug. "It's nothing. I overreacted," he minimized, pivoting to push past her out of his bath suite and on toward his closet, towel still casually draped across his lap where he dropped it after toweling off – and before seeing the gruesome sight...

"Oh, yeah, like that's a news flash. What was it this time?" she teased, following him to come around in front of him, ready to work on him and wrest his secrets from him. The great and powerful Eyes Only really needs to retool his will power, Max considered with a smug little smirk to herself, knowing just the right combination of waving her derriere in his face and offering tantalizing little kisses could break her subject every time...

But this time he didn't seem to be playing along. "C'mon, Max, I have work to do..." he began his eternal mantra, making ready to burrow into his clothing hanging in front of him, pretending they weren't both still warm, naked and damp...

"Oh yeah? More important than this?" Clad only in one of Logan's soft tee shirts, her skin still fragrant with soap and steam, Max came close to sit balanced on the wheel under his left elbow then leaned provocatively over toward the other wheel at his right, effectively draping herself across his lap. "What if I have an important scoop for Eyes Only, right here and now?"

He grimaced and shook his head, trying to be the responsible adult. "Max..."

"Hey, c'mon, I want to know," she wheedled. "You looked pretty shook," she allowed a small laugh but focused again, sincere, "and maybe I can help. Nothing is so terrible..."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled, but wavered, then shrugged, lifting his eyes to her. "I overreacted," he repeated, with a sheepish shrug. "I was just ... caught off-guard."

"By your stomach?" she blurted, her sympathetic demeanor slipping a little in her skepticism before she could rein it in.

"No," he matched her exasperation with his, and, not meeting her eyes, grudged, "my chest. Or... not my chest..." he stalled, well aware of how it would sound. "A chest hair."

"A chest hair?" she echoed, not getting it. "What would y..."

"A grey chest hair, Max." His eyes swung up to meet hers now, almost defiantly, he held her gaze as he admitted, "a grey chest hair. A grey hair... There," He pointed, then looked away again, bothered both by how it sounded and how he felt about the little intruder.

Max gazed at the vexed face, and wondered what in the world she should do with the man – rib him? Flatter or sympathize or cajole? Love him? She shrugged, once again tenderly amused by one of his cranky, surprising moments which at base were borne of his love for her and his concern that he 'measure up.' In a neutral tone, watching for his reaction, she offered, "it's just a grey hair, Logan..."

"'Just a grey hair,'" he murmured, echoing her words, still stung.

"Well, geez, Logan, what's the big dealio?" she challenged. "Just get rid if it." Before he could react, with Manticore driven speed she reached in, grabbed the offending curl, and plucked it quickly and smartly from his chest.

"Ow!" His hands flew up to protect his tender chest, too late, as it happened. "Hey..." he griped.

"Outa sight, outa mind..." Max sing-songed back to him, with a satisfied smile. "Next crisis?"

"Oh, yeah?" He clearly wasn't finished with this one yet. "Well, what are you gonna do about the rest of them, as they come in – on my chest again, or on my head ... or..."

"Other places?" She leered, grinning hungrily.

"...or..." he repeated, emphasizing the syllable to point out he'd been interrupted, then dropped his voice, hesitating. In a moment he managed to go on, his often-mulled concerns suddenly taking shape, even less comic to him as he mulled all the ramifications ... and more persistent. "... wrinkles ... age lines... "

"Rings around your middle we can count, like a tree?" Her sense of fun hadn't wavered but her expression had softened, seeing the honest concern in his handsome face. At his look – now nearly mournful, she saw, and not enjoying this at all, she tried to make him see reason. "Logan, you're barely over thirty. You're not that old..."

"...but I'll always be older than you," he replied immediately, clearly having had this debate at least with himself in the past. "And my God, look at you; you're perfect now and while those bastards at Manticore may have been evil and demented, they weren't crazy..." Logan's tirade slowed up just a bit, as he stopped to consider his words as he said them. "They probably gave you genes to keep you this beautiful for five lifetimes..." He glanced up at her, guiltily, but unable to stop there, seeing that she was at least listening to his long-held fear, finally aired, " and I'm sure those male X-5s will be something to see for a lot more years than any of us mortals are."

"No matter how sexy you may be now?" she baited quickly.

"No matter how sexy I may be n..." Logan's ears caught up to his emotionally driven response and, with a glance up to the self-satisfied expression Max wore, realized what she'd managed to get him to repeat. Stubborn, insecure, he simply snorted and looked away again, wishing he would hear her affirm her last words. "'Sexy,'" he muttered, under his breath ...

"Sexy," she affirmed with a nod and not a moment's hesitation. She looked at the nearly naked man, head tipped down in his latest angst, and smiled tenderly. "Hey, old man," she said softly, shifting now to slide a provocative knee along his thigh, easing herself as she did so half into his lap. "Haven't you caught on yet just how sexy you are? To any female not on Cindy's team? ... to me?" Max lowered herself onto his thigh, her back leg still out behind her as she moved tantalizingly and slowly, ever closer to him, but not yet fully his. "Like just now – wasn't the extra hour in bed and thirty minutes in the shower sort of a clue?"

He shrugged, affecting a pout, but unable to resist looking up to her and letting his arms pull her closer. "Those wrinkles were just the water," he managed to quip, despite his continuing reticence. "There will be some that come on their own soon enough..."

"Probably on me, too," Max assured him, having no idea what was really in store for her, but meaning every word, as she gently kissed the tiny crows feet he likely hadn't noticed yet, the gentle laugh lines she loved to see crinkle in happiness. "And if you can handle mine, I know yours will be just as sexy as the rest of you."

He found the courage to lean forward and nibble her lip. "Grey hair too?"

She grinned, pressing her form now up against his and squirming hungrily. "Grey hair too," she purred, and curled down to nuzzle his chest. Looking up to meet his eyes for approval, she slowly moved to draw the towel, still draped across his lap, out of the way. "What do you say I start looking for them now?"