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A/N: Thanks to those of you sticking through with us on this project. All comments appreciated!
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"Discovered Uncovered"
The Crash Challenge, Max POV 3, by Shywr1ter
"The tale of love must be heard from love itself. For like a mirror it is both mute and expressive."
Jalaluddin Rumi, (1207-1273)
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From the moment she left Logan's that morning, Max hadn't given their plans a second thought — as she smugly reminded herself several times during the day. Wonder if Logan's stewing about showing his face at Crash, she'd thought as she came into Jam Pony to start her day. 'Bout time he comes out and see how all his fans live their lives, she'd reflected as a delivery took her by graffiti urging her to 'stay strong in the struggle.' I'm not even going to see if he'll find me some lunch — wouldn't want to make him more nervous about his big night, she'd smirked, as another run brought her in sight of Fogle Towers. "You're just looking for what you want to see," she'd dismissed, when Original Cindy opined that her lack of focus that afternoon was due to her mind running ahead to the upcoming evening.
She finished work at 6:00 and went home to a dull dinner of cold cereal and milk that was nearly sour enough to toss out. Not quite a Cale Creation, is it? she thought, as she nonetheless managed to down it all without too much difficulty. Maybe I should go see if Logan has gotten himself some dinner, without me there to poke him into cooking. Especially for tonight, he ought to have a decent meal before going out…
The thought of seeing him over his dinner table, brown-out candles softening the air around him and lending gold sparks to his oh-so-expressive eyes made her movements slow momentarily, then made her shake herself firmly. "Forget it," she growled out loud to herself, putting her bowl and spoon in the sink with a loud clunk. "Tonight, Logan's in your world, for a change. Let him deal."
Edgy, and uncertain why, Max glanced at the clock, ready to get moving: 6:15. Great… she reacted. Nearly three hours of waiting, all just to hold Logan's hand to get him to Crash…
Max paced to the window, looking out over the darkening city, her restlessness growing. Whatever this was, she wasn't going to stew over it here at home. Perfect time for a ride, she decided, turning on her heel to grab her coat and motorcycle, pushing it out the door with her.
In moments, she was on her bike and, not long after, on streets she knew to be safer from police concerns about her opening it up, felt the rush of having the wind in her face and the engine roar in her ears, helping block out all other thought. …and anyone who wants to call this 'escapism' will have an X-5 to answer to, she grinned to herself as she bent lower over the bars and sped off into the dusk…
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She'd been out for nearly two hours, heading to the Needle after a good twenty five minutes on her Ninja — luxury, given how hard it had been to score this tank of gas. She stopped home just long enough to get a fast shower and throw on cleaner clothes, promising herself she wasn't showering because it was a date or anything, but because after a day of riding her bike for work, then an evening on her baby, Logan's delicate wealthy nostrils would probably be offended enough that he might decide to dial back on the dinner invitations, and she did not like the idea of having cereal for dinner more frequently than she did now. Only reason for the shower, she reassured herself.
Even after stopping to primp a little — just a way to kill some more time, she told herself — she found herself in Logan's elevator ten minutes early. She fought the urge to go back downstairs and circle the block — that's so lame, Max, she snorted inwardly — and let herself into Logan's penthouse. Just as it was on so many nights, it was hushed and soothing … but no sound of keyboard clatter met her this time.
What? she allowed a private grin. Has he really pulled his nose away from that computer screen? He's actually going to go to Crash tonight?
"Logan?" she called softly, coming back down the hall. True enough, no one was at the computer, and his Crankiness was not at his post at the large windows overlooking the city.
Bedroom, then? Bathroom? Actually getting ready to go out?
Not only were the sounds of the computer absent, but there was no other sound — no shower or other movement. With a slight frown she came closer to the nearly closed bedroom door and listened more carefully. In the next moment her eyebrows lifted, high, in surprise – and amusement.
Snoring?
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Carefully … silently … Max slowly pushed open the door to Logan's darkened bedroom. The light from the hall spilled into the room in a long, gentle shaft of light across the floor and up over onto the bed, playing over the lanky form of Logan Cale as he lay sprawled back, sound asleep. With his easy, deep breathing there came the gentle snoring she'd heard from the hall.
She stood in the doorway, gazing in, almost feeling as if she was on a B & E for Eyes Only, this intrusion on Logan's private sanctuary. Logan Cale, asleep, without his eyes burning in his intense, passionate pursuit of the latest evildoer, without his frown of disapproval or long-suffering sighs…
She discovered she'd been holding her breath.
Creeping in closer, she let her eyes trail down slowly over the sleeping form, napping across the foot of his large, inviting bed, just as if he'd been sitting there at the edge and was suddenly zapped with a tranquilizer dart, falling back, asleep on the spot. Has he ever been this still? she wondered, this quiet? Even when studying the computer files unfolding before him or lost in thought at his window, Logan exuded a sense of mission, of momentum, thoughts racing, plans hatching … wrongs being righted…
But not now. Not like this. Mesmerized by his rhythmic, slow breathing, Max slowly took in the flat, gently rising stomach, the soft brown hair curling along his chest… the newly emerging definition along his pecs and abs, the beauty of the strengthening muscles across his shoulders and chest now softened only slightly in his sleep…
Wow… she reflected, eyes wide... Have the baggy sweaters and shapeless tee shirts he's been wearing been to hide this? This body? And who's he hiding from? From me? she dared to wonder. Who else would he have to hide from…?
She gulped, prodding herself to pull her eyes away from the view. You don't move now, you'll be rooted here when he wakes up and finds you ogling him like a pork roast… with one last sweep of his form, she forced her eyes to move upward… and was even more surprised with what she'd missed before:
His chin. His bare, clean-shaven chin…
It was amazing, the difference. Without the stubble, he looked younger, less world-weary. Of course, it was helped by sleep, his brow cleared of worry lines, taking years off his life, the gentling of his features and smoothing of his too-often worried expression almost giving him an innocence…
You know it's not just the chin-skin, Max, or seeing his face without the prickly blanket it usually has. It's what it means. He shaved. For this. For Crash. For…
…me? Smiling at the thought, Max involuntarily reached toward the smooth, firm jawline, the handsome features. He looks so peaceful. So different… but still — so Logan, she reflected, almost letting her fingers touch the newly revealed chin…
…when a new, comical hiccup in the rhythmic, oddly soothing snore brought her back to Earth.
Stifling a self-conscious snicker as she shook away the spell, unwilling to admit to herself how rattled he could leave her, Max noticed the damp towel still lying, rumpled, across his chair, and smiled a little to herself as she lifted it and moved to take it back to his bathroom, allowing it to be an excuse to take another quick look at the luxurious, immaculate bathroom suite, itself larger than some apartments she'd seen in her building. She'd peeked in once before, curious to see such luxury, but this time it was still warm and scented from his shower with his soap and shampoo… In sudden recognition of the symptoms, she screwed her eyes shut and breathed, Oh, no, Max, get your mind out of there, or he'll suck you back into his spell again. Turning smartly, she marched herself from one danger to the other, near again to his napping form, keeping her eyes averted for the moment, at least.
She glanced at her watch. 8:35. She supposed she'd have to wake him soon, not only because they had plans, but because if Logan knew she'd been there and just … watching him… well, who knows what he'd make of it.
What should he make of it, Max? she demanded mentally, as she allowed herself another peek at the blissfully oblivious man. Isn't this just a little weird, to be checking him out like this? Again taking in this new side of him, the peacefulness he seemed to radiate in his sleep, she found herself imagining the feel of his shoulders under her palms, his warm, clean skin under her fingertips. His skin must taste so sweet… she found herself thinking…
She blinked in sudden surprise at the turn her thoughts were taking, especially after telling herself not moments before to get a grip on things. Not Heat; definitely not Heat, she told herself, Wrong time and … wrong feel. Or, right feel, she corrected herself, because this feeling is… her thoughts trailed as she looked at the sleeping figure.
She knelt slowly beside the bed, watching him sleep.
What the hell is this, Max? Something else Manticore cooked up? Or is this just another, unwitting Cale 'culinary' miracle?
Whatever it was, it wouldn't last, and maybe her best bet was to wake him up so this new, compelling Logan wouldn't keep pulling her in. When he wakes up and shows me his old, pissy self, that ought to cure a lot of things. "Logan?" she tried softly. He didn't budge. Deep sleep, then, she figured, and suddenly wondered if he'd been so exhausted it would be better to let him sleep, no matter their plans. He fights sleep enough every other time… any chance he was coming down with something, to make him finally give in like this, clearly in the middle of getting ready to go out? She frowned slightly and tried again, "Logan? Are you okay?"
He pushed his arms lazily above his head and stretched, and the silly smile she saw as he roused, the one of sheer, lazy bliss, was so out of place on the face of the proudly intense, serious cyberjournalist, she had to stifle another snicker. She didn't let herself catch the fact that her reaction was one of relief, too.
She watched with fascination as he awoke slowly, in stages, his stretch long and slow, now easing back into full relaxation. What must it be like to watch him sleeping, watch him waking, every day…?
And in that moment, he opened his eyes and turned his head, staring into her eyes from only a few inches away as she knelt beside him, beside the bed. She knew she'd grinned suddenly, but couldn't help it, taken by the sight of him in this almost-awake, bleary state. "Hey," she tried, softly.
Logan swallowed. "Hey," he managed, and cleared his throat. "What time is it?"
"Twenty 'til nine." She watched as he fought to blink away the fuzziness left by his nap and tried mightily to look as if he wasn't disoriented. What is it about Mr. Take-Charge-and-Save the-World that makes him so cute when he's 'off-duty?'
"You're early," he pointed out.
"And you were asleep," she pronounced. Ah, see Max? Pissiness, right out of the box. Thanks for the save, Logan. "You aren't gonna go to Crash dressed like this, are you?" she teased.
"Um, no. I… thought I'd put on some socks."
Max raised one eyebrow, her gaze sweeping his bare chest in a much less x-rated version of what she'd managed earlier. What will he make of my checking him out? she wondered, smirking at the blush she'd raised in response.
"And a shirt," he continued, squirming a little, no matter how hard he tried not to. "Of course."
"Of course," she repeated and stood. "Wanna hand?"
"No, I'm fine." He sat up, ran a hand through his hair and grinned up at her. His grin was more centered now, as he seemed to be getting over his embarrassment that Eyes Only was caught napping. "I'll be out in a few minutes." He reached for the shirt laid out beside him on the bed.
She nodded and turned to leave his bedroom, calling "as long as you don't try to back out on me," over her shoulder, feeling Logan watching her as she retreated, leaving him to finishing dressing. She never entertained the idea that the last few moments had added a bounce to her step. "I've been lookin' forward to this all day." Of course, I haven't really thought that much about it, Max told herself as she went out to examine his pantry as she waited, but he will have, and I wouldn't want him to think I don't care…
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Up next: our first original character of this story, Joseph, lovingly created and written by Mari83!