Author's Note: So, I wasn't planning for the Maxie/Logan drama to go this far. The story seems to have a mind of it's own these days. This chapter and probably the chapters after will be Spinelli's POV. And once more, thank you to all my reviewers. Y'all rock.

Spinelli paced back and forth in the hallway internally raging. Her face, her shirt, her skin – her eyes. He turned again and started over. Her face, her shirt, her skin – her eyes. His fists were clenched so tightly it hurt. Spinelli was a lover, not a fighter, but never in his life had he so desired to hit something. Someone. Logan.

The water running noisily down the hall could not drown out the sound of his own racing heartbeat. Someone had hurt Maxie, Maximista, his friend, the object of his unwavering yet tragically unknown affection. And where had he been? Asleep, lost in a dream of her, lost to her when she needed him. He was a failure.

He had known something bad was happening with Logan. Spinelli had seen the bruises, the slight tension in her shoulders when he would walk by, the unnatural fear and stillness in her eyes. But he had done nothing. Spinelli hadn't forced the subject, he had only let Maxie know he was there for her, when he should've been making her tell him, or killing Logan. God, he'd love to kill Logan, but Maxie was all that mattered now.

"Maximista?" Spinelli called as he knocked lightly on the bathroom door. She had been in there a long time. "Maximista, The Jackal is worried."

"J-just a minute," Maxie called back. Spinelli could tell she was crying. He heard the water turn off and sunk down onto the hallway floor waiting for her to emerge.

Ten minutes later the door opened and Spinelli hurriedly stood. Maxie lingered awkwardly in the doorway as Spinelli stared helplessly at her. She had bruises on her face, on her arms, and probably a few places he couldn't see. She looked so small and childlike in his plaid pajama pants and orange t-shirt.

"Sorry I took so long," Maxie offered softly.

"It's of no concern. I was only worried about you," Spinelli said moving to the side to let her pass.

He was surprised when she went into The Regrettably Pink Room instead of the living room. She probably didn't want to be anywhere that Jason, or anyone else could walk in on her like this. He watched as she grabbed her ribs and grimaced as she curled up on his unmade bed. Spinelli sat on his computer chair, unsure of how comfortable she was with him being there.

Time seemed to drag on and on as the silence hanging between them got heavier and heavier. Spinelli was mentally sorting through half-cooked phrases trying to figure out what to say to her, as Maxie was picking at the dark purple nail polish she had on.

"Maxie --" Spinelli started and stopped unsure. Maxie's head jerked up to look at him. "Maxie, The Jackal does not mean to push, or to pry while you are so obviously in a state of distress, but he cannot help but wonder what exactly has happened..."

"I don't think I can --"

"Maximista, I'm your friend. You trust me. I cannot help if you do not tell me what subject matter I am dealing with. I am most afraid for you, and need to know what happened. Please?"

"Logan," Maxie whispered.

Spinelli's stomach churned. He was right – it was Logan. Of course it was Logan. Lowly Logan. Spinelli's fingernails cut into his palm. Later he would have a word with Logan.

"What did he do, Maxie?" Spinelli whispered harshly.

"Just – it was just – Logan," Maxie said as a tear trailed down her cheek. Spinelli's heart broke and his arms physically ached to wrap her up, keep her safe.

"Did he ...?" Spinelli trailed off unsure of whether or not using the word rape was the best idea at this moment. Maxie almost imperceptibly nodded. "Oh, Sweet Maxie. The Jackal – I am so, so sorry."

Maxie started to cry harder, her shoulders shaking violently. Spinelli sat helpless wanting to hold her but remembering trying to put his arm around her waist and how she had recoiled. She continued to cry and cry, her sobs wracking her body, and choking on her breath. Spinelli had never seen someone break down this completely.

"Maxie? Maxie?" Spinelli said trying to get her attention. Nothing. "Sweet Maxie? Would it be okay if I were to – hug you? I understand if you do not want to be touched right now, especially by someone of the male persuasion. But I hope you know I would never hurt you, I only wish to anchor you."

Maxie nodded slightly and scooted over to make room for Spinelli. He crawled slowly next to her and sat. Cautiously he brought his arm up and Maxie slowly crawled under it. Her one tiny hand clutched at the front of his shirt and he looked down to see her eyes clenched tightly.

"Oh Maxie Mine," Spinelli muttered running his hand ghostly over her back. She didn't flinch at the contact so he more firmly rubbed her back. He could feel her blond hair tickling his nose and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Maxie Mine, we will fix this. I will fix this, I promise. I promise. I promise we'll get you through this."

Spinelli continued to whisper to her as slowly, slowly, slowly her body dropped off into the realm of dreamless sleep. Her breath huffed out like a child who had cried themselves to sleep, which was almost exactly what happened. Except she wasn't a child, she was a woman. A beautiful, lovely woman who had been most unfairly broken.

"I won't let him hurt you again, Maxie. I swear," he said and felt Maxie move closer to him in her sleep. "I love you, and we'll get through this. You're not alone."