DISCLAIMER: Characters and situations in this story borrowed from Dark Angel and NCIS. No profits made.

A/N: I know it's been forever. Thanks to everyone hanging in with this story and asking about it continuing – I hope that this will help catch things up a bit. The second half of this tenth chapter was to have been Chapter One in this story – but then a couple people suggested the basketball tournament ought to be included, so now, ten chapters later – here comes the story!

Comments & reviews are still so appreciated. It makes a difference to know if the story still works...

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 16, 2020; 9:40 p.m.

Crash

The place was full of life, more so than usual for a Monday night. A crowd more typical of a good Saturday night's draw was spread throughout the bar, with several people cheering on the current four players at the pool table, others laughing and telling bigger and bigger war stories – all in festive good cheer. And all because of the large, gleaming trophy that stood right in the middle of the bar, on display for the crowd to admire, along with the team-members who had brought the trophy back to Seattle and to their sponsor, Jam Pony.

It was enough to keep the bar noisy and busy and bustling throughout the night, drawing regulars and newcomers. The victory party had been hastily arranged by the Jam Pony riders; coming in from the weekend to see a surprisingly proud Normal behind the impressive trophy front and center at his desk, they decided that their team needed a celebration befitting their success. Word of the celebration had spread quickly and by nine that night, the entire team had made it there, even Logan, who in all his time with Max had managed to avoid more than a half dozen visits to Crash with her.

No one would ever suspect his reluctance, however, looking at the grinning, relaxed face of Logan Cale as he relived plays with his teammates, poured beer for anyone passing by the table where he sat, and even gained a quick, furtive kiss or two from Max as she circled the room, leading the usual Crash gang into conversation with team members and their group, always coming back to join Logan for a while before popping up again to work her way through the crowd to see what was going on across the room.

As she did, Logan would look admiringly after her, appreciating her interest, her company and admittedly, her very fine form, before being drawn back into conversation with others nearby...

He wasn't the only one who did.

Two men, never before in Crash, managing to look nondescript and ordinary despite their remarkable DNA, alternately kept an eye on Max to be sure she didn't make them, and an eye on Logan, to see when one of them might place the transmitters. Each of them had been sent with four of the mini-transmitters deemed best for the job, along with plugging material for each – redundancy counseled to ensure a signal – and with orders to place at least one before leaving, but two unless impossible. They had entered the bar at different times and never made any sort of contact, in case one was discovered – again, redundancy – and had been briefed in far greater detail than either thought necessary about the wiles and skills of the renegade X5-452. Lydecker had not minced words; they were chosen less for their particular talents or greater fitness for this particular mission than for the fact that neither of them had a clone who had been in 452's unit – and were therefore a little less likely to draw her suspicion. It wasn't a difficult assignment, just took a bit of finesse, and each secretly wondered why this had become such a big deal to Lydecker. Certainly something more than trailing one of the rogue X5s: everyone knew that Command had given up any hope of truly assimilating them back into Manticore years ago – the efforts made at doing just that, that first decade, had not gone well.

But a mission was a mission, and their only goal that evening was the placement of a working transmitter into the wheelchair of the man with whom 452 had coupled. Identifying him had been easy enough; they now waited for the crowd and circumstances to allow one or the other of them to position himself just right, so the placement could be made. They had several options planned, if things didn't happen spontaneously within the first three hours, but into hour two it seemed as if the contact and installation might be accomplished without all that much direct engagement. Due to the closeness of contact needed to work the transmitter into a relatively small, specific place, it was a slightly more tricky assignment than most such ops. Still, it was a low risk, high gain mission, especially with the two of them there, and gave them a bit more practice at blending with sort of civilians commonly encountered out in the field – and if something so mundane got a good report for them from the Colonel, then even better.

Only occasionally catching the other's eye, X5-761 played it more quietly, hanging mostly by the bar at the front, close to the table where Cale had been much of the night, with a usually clear view of the man's actions; X5-622 was eager and friendly, pressing into conversations and crowds as a newcomer to Seattle, on shore leave for a few days from a fishing trawler, berthed there in Seattle's commercial port.

Even without speaking, each could tell that the other anticipated a successful mission that night. They were each relaxed and easy, on professional alert but confident and calm. And though Lydecker would tear them up for it, the team knew it was not a complete loss if something interfered and they couldn't place the bugs that night. They were only the first attempt at this op, and there would be other opportunities before the transmitter absolutely had to go operational... All in all, about as low-key an assignment as they'd ever had.

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 16, 2020; 11:01 p.m.

Crash

"Hey, Logan," Original Cindy slid into a chair across from the couple, as she joined them after engaging in some quality time with a striking brunette she swore was Zena's double. "Congratulations on your boys bringin' home the prize, Boo. Max said you boys earned every inch of that shiny centerpiece you brought home. "

"Thanks, Cindy" he beamed. "And thanks for getting this party started – Max said this was your idea, to get everyone over here."

"We worked it out together," Cindy nodded toward Max, sitting at his side. "So your cousin even came out to see the game? An' he brought his shortie out to see you kick ass?"

Logan nodded, his eyes sparkling with the reminder. "And Max spent a lot of time getting to know her," he glanced toward Max, including her in his response. "She seems like she may even be able to keep Tony in line."

"But she still didn't really say what I have to do to pass at this wedding," Max looked to her friend, glancing at Logan for his assistance. "She was way too nice about it all, and wouldn't say anything much other than saying they just wanted to have us there, and that stuff like how we dressed doesn't matter..."

"Max, I think she really meant it. She just wants people there and enjoying themselves..." Logan tried, apparently not for the first time – and Max's expression made it clear that she still wasn't buying it.

"Didn't we go through this with your other cousin?" Cindy asked, then turned to Max. "What about that red dress you got for the last wedding? You look hot in it, Boo, and that's a fact."

Logan nodded, remembering, at Crash long enough by then that even the watery beer was making him a bit more effusive than usual. "Oh ... yeah. That dress..." he remembered, a slow, appreciative smile lighting his face.

Max rolled her eyes at Logan's reaction, but couldn't hide the tiny smile that echoed the beam of delight he'd raised the first time he'd told her how much he liked the dress – and that she'd been the most beautiful woman at the wedding. Knowing he was no help with this, she shook her head as she looked back at Original Cindy. "This thing is a small, private dealio, in some office at the Capitol or something, like at 5:00 in the afternoon – but then they'll have a dinner for a group of friends and family, and then start some big party after that, for all the high and mighty..."

"Maybe not that high and mighty, Max..." Logan tried a soothing tone.

"How much higher and mightier do you want than the President of the United States?"

"They don't think he's going to stop in..." Logan pointed out.

"But he might. And Tony said he has a soft spot for Barbara..." Max turned back to Cindy, whose eyes were wide now with the thought. Seeing it, Max explained, "Barb is an Assistant Secretary of Health and Human Services – as in, second in line to a cabinet position, and has been in on briefings at the White House, all that stuff. The wedding and reception are gonna be right there, and she kinda had to invite her boss, and so his boss..."

"Just think how many weddings the President gets invited to, Max; he wouldn't go to all of them..." Logan tried reason.

"No, but you're taking me to a wedding where he's invited," Max reminded Logan, clearly not for the first time, "and might come, and that just tells you the kind of people who will come..."

"Hey, you've met Tony. With luck he'll have run off any of the really snooty ones..." Logan grinned.

Cindy glanced over at Logan, whose hopeful, encouraging smile remained locked in place, undaunted, slightly fortified by Crash's weak beer. Max looked back to Cindy for help. "So I gotta blend – something all low-key wedding in the afternoon, then dinner with that crowd, then after that, everyone off to the night party..." She gestured in what was almost disgust at Logan, as a representative of the gender for whom such things were so easy. "All Logan has to do is wear a suit – same for Tony, even. I don't do this right and I'm sticking out like a tourist..."

Logan appealed to Original Cindy now. "Cindy, tell her – it can't be all that bad, can it?"

"Boy, I don't know, sugah – you gotta admit, Tony's girl is connected – and I mean to the big playahs, in charge." Logan seemed genuinely surprised that Cindy was entirely sympathetic with Max's concern that this was a trap for her, waiting to happen. "Big ol' fancy do for the richie-rich and the political crowd? And in a city where the recovery started? Original Cindy's not gonna be much help with that one." She snorted. "Back in the day, they had people hired to sneak around parties like that and report what people were wearing, who stickin' out like sore thumbs – maybe they got that goin' on again..."

It was Logan's turn to roll his eyes. "Thanks, Cindy, I'm glad you helped convince Max she'll be fine out there."

"You know I'm not gonna lie to my Boo, sugah. Social events can be a trap for the unwary. I thought you knew that from your own crazy family."

In spite of herself, Max smirked a little at Original Cindy's drama matching both her own and Logan's, and even helped a little when she turned back to Cindy. "Do you know what Barb would have meant when she said something about 'a little black dress?'"

Logan snorted softly into his beer mug as he lifted it for another drink, and muttered, "even I know what that means..."

"Yeah, but I think you'd rather that I be the one to help her out with that," Cindy grinned to Logan, standing to grab the empty pitcher. "Sounds like we have another shopping trip ahead, Boo. You just tell me when you ready." With a flourish, she turned to head up to the bar and a refill. Max looked up at Logan with a waiting look.

"You see? Only gonna put me in a bind..." she warned, still not comfortable with the thought, but comforted at least that, apparently without Max catching it, Barbara had actually given her something to work with. A 'little black dress' means something, then ...

"Max – " Logan tried to sound encouraging, seeing that Max did seem a bit less tense about it with Cindy's promise of help, but he remembered his own family failure phobias and knew all too well the sort of pressure she might be feeling. Despite the celebrations around them, Logan leaned closer, working again to urge Max's comfort with the idea of their trip. "They really want us there – and you know that Tony and Barbara aren't worried about it. They're the only ones who matter."

"Maybe not them, but what about all their five-star peeps? Just waiting for someone to use the wrong fork, or wear the wrong shoes. I just don't want to be the one doing it."

Logan's eyes narrowed as he considered her. "You weren't this worried about Bennett's wedding. I thought you wanted to fit in there because I was frazzled about it. You didn't seem all that worried about what anyone thought about you."

"This is different," she shrugged, looking away in a little agitation, "this is Tony, you know, your personal hero? I just want him to think I'm worthy of his favorite cousin."

"Oh, we've already discussed all that." Logan grinned smugly.

Max looked at him, closely, unsure yet if this was a good sign. "You have?"

"Oh, yeah." He smirked, his grin recalling their discussion. "How do you think I was able to get up the nerve to take you on?"

"Take me on?" she challenged – but her eyes showed she knew exactly what he meant and that she was delighted to hear it. "What did you tw..."

"Hey, Logan!" Corey yelled from across the room. "Table's ours – "

Logan looked back to Max quickly, anticipation sparkling in his eyes, and apologized, "Sketchy and Corey have ten bucks on the next game, and they want to do partners..."

"Go," she laughed, waving him off toward the pool table as she saw Original Cindy making her way back with another pitcher. Cindy watched Logan's as he threaded his way across the bar and smirked, "that the same, too-serious boy lives up in that fine nest in Sector Nine? He seems to have finally loosened up a little. Looks like some old fashioned booty just what the boy needed..." Max shot Cindy with an exasperated look, but Cindy didn't bat an eye. "...what you needed too." She looked again as Logan reached the waiting threesome at the pool table and then glanced back to Max, seeing she did too. "Enough to give a body hope that even the heterosexual world can have itself a happy ending."

And as both women gave the pool hustlers a final glance before turning back to their discussion, another two pair of eyes considered the game starting up and, unnoticed by anyone else in the noisy place, the clear blue eyes met brown, agreement reached, and the owner of the blue eyes slid off his bar stool to make his way, indirectly, back toward the pool game getting underway...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 17, 2020; 12:13 a.m.

Abandoned truck parts warehouse, Industrial Park, city limits

The phone hadn't had a chance to complete one ring before it was snapped up by Lydecker. Confirming the phone number on the incoming call, he first nodded to a silent figure sitting at a monitor board, who entered in a few lightning fast commands and, after the barest of pauses, looked up to the colonel and nodded. Lydecker keyed his receiver and snapped his response. "Report."

"Accomplished, sir. No problems."

"Acknowledged. Good work, soldier. The bug's active and five by five."

"Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?" X5-622 spoke low, his words covered by the bar noises around him, but he held X5-761's gaze as he spoke to his CO. They both anticipated being ordered back, but neither would leave their mission location until Lydecker confirmed they were done for the night.

"No. You can dictate a contact report here and the debrief on the encrypted recorder you were provided and store it under the security code you were given – same for X5-761. Once that's done you're both released from the mission."

"Yes, Sir – I'll clear X5-761 and will be there in about ninety minutes."

"Understood. Good work, 622. Out."

X5-622 snapped his phone shut and gave X5-761 a brief nod. Putting his phone in his pocket, he watched X5-761 finish the rest of his beer, put some bills on the bar and turn to leave Crash. With the excuse of not drawing attention to the fact that the two of them were there together, X5-622 ordered another beer and, grabbing the thick mug, turned back to the festive crowd and looked around for the brash blonde female who had come up to him earlier, openly flirting with him. He wondered if she was still around. No reason he couldn't do a little more 'research' into the indigenous peoples...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 19, 2020; 6:24 p.m.

SECTOR 9; Fogle Towers. Penthouse

As was common for him, Logan puttered in the kitchen, finishing his preparations for another dinner with Max. Not common at all was his nervousness about her arrival, even a sense of dread.

Since they'd returned from the tournament, since the party and Max's shopping arrangements with Original Cindy, their plans for Tony's wedding were more and more in the forefront of their discussions. He wanted nothing more than to go out to DC with Max, to take her to see the City, away from the proximity of Lydecker and Manticore, away from the worst of the depressed economy. But the more they discussed the trip, the closer it got ... the more he realized he had to tell her. To face the music.

To tell Max that his cousin knew her deepest secret ... and that he hadn't told her that he did.

Tony had been right; the longer he waited, the worse it would be. Is there any way she won't ask how long he's known? He doubted it... He considered putting it off yet again but knew it couldn't make things better. Maybe I'm overreacting ... maybe it won't bother her...

He heard his door open and shut, and knew he was so wrong...

"Hey..." he heard her voice before she came around the corner into the kitchen, looking happy and hungry and as beautiful as always, slightly windblown. She came up close and leaned in for a kiss, which he returned as best he could. She leaned back in a short moment and gave him a look. "Where's your head?" she grinned, sensing his distraction but at least, he thought, not what was coming. "Some big mission?"

It would be so easy to say yes – but then, holding out on her is what got you in this mess in the first place, and if you lie now too... Logan shook his head. "Sorry, Max. Just ... in the middle of some things this afternoon and..." He trailed off, not finishing, but turned to the dinner, hoping food would distract her. At least maybe a nice dinner before hitting her with this... "Things are ready. Want to get out the plates and things?"

"Okay," she turned and went to get their table settings, allowing Logan a moment to breathe. Maybe if I don't approach it with the feeling that she'll be angry – at least if she thinks it didn't occur to me she'd be upset...

...or would that be worse?

"You should have seen Normal this afternoon," Max began with a laugh, her thoughts clearly in her story now, and Logan felt a moment of reprieve. "He had Druid help him build a shelf up in the office for the trophy, and he's got it all arranged with a couple photos and those pieces of the net you guys brought him..."

After dinner, then, Logan told himself. A good dinner. Then we'll talk...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: March 19, 2020; 6:53 p.m.

SECTOR 9; Fogle Towers. Penthouse

Dinner wasn't even half over before Max finally asked him. "Okay, Logan, so what's the dealio? Something's on your mind; you've got no poker face when it's something to do with us."

But when he nodded, somber now, and said, "yeah, Max ... there's something I need to talk to you about," Max felt a sudden, cold knot of fear.

All this time – has he suddenly decided that having a patched-together girlfriend isn't all it's cracked up to be? Too much talk about what Tony and Barbara would think of me made him think he'd better rethink things himself? Mouth dry, emotions wrapped in a sudden, self-protective fist in her stomach, Max shrugged and affected a 'who cares' attitude. "Okay. So...?"

"So..." Logan could see Max draw back slightly, and he swallowed, hard. "I... uh ..." He paused, tried again. "You know ... with all the plans and arrangements for Tony's wedding ... we need to talk..."

Max felt her breathing hitch, involuntarily. So ... I was right? "You were the one with the plans," she managed not to sound too affected – or too hurt. "What, now you've decided to back out?"

"No, Max," he said quickly. "It's nothing like that."

"Then what?" She could see he was uncomfortable, but she was flat out worried now and not feeling terribly diplomatic. His reaction was such a dramatic change from the past weeks, with how close they'd become, the joy and energy and fun of the basketball tournament and all that went with it. He'd been so excited at getting Tony's wedding invitation, and was full of plans for their trip cross-country to Washington, his delight at being Tony's best man mixing with his suggestion they make at least a week of it; promised sight-seeing and museums and a city nearly like it was, before the Pulse. He'd been happy and hopeful, sounding romantic with plans for dazzling her with the city, and optimistic with the thought that they could go be a couple, sharing the wonders waiting for them...

What had happened to bring back the old Logan in all this? If not cold feet, it still sounded as if he was already making excuses why he – why they – wouldn't be going after all. Did the reality of a high-society, high-profile wedding finally sink in, and Logan finally decide that she wouldn't fit in? Whatever it was, he was more uncomfortable with her than he'd been in a good while now...and she steeled herself for the worst...

"Max, I ... I was selfish, in not telling you this before, but at the time, Tony only had a couple more days in Seattle, and we were all having such a great visit with him ..." He started in the middle, words tumbling; finding no way to make this easy. "I didn't want anything getting in the way or making things awkward." He glanced away from the intensity and uncertainty in her dark eyes, the increasing trepidation, and he hated the moment, imagining how she'd react to his keeping this from her ... wondering if this would be enough to make her cancel her plans to go out east with him for the wedding. "Max..." His voice was soft, and he sighed his apology, knowing he couldn't delay it any longer. "Tony knows..."

Her eyes flashed. When he didn't continue, she prodded, not really needing to, but holding onto that hope that it wasn't the obvious. "About...?"

"About Manticore. About you."

Her eyes grew round in her disbelief. "What, you told him? Logan, I can't believe that yo–"

"I didn't. He knew, Max..." Logan's voice was still quiet – and careful. "When all of you escaped, and Lydecker didn't get all of you rounded up in the first twenty four hours, the higher-ups called in reinforcements – inter-agency teams were formed. It was Tony who was first tapped to coordinate and command all the insertion teams." Logan took a good look at her reaction before going on – and saw that, following her initial moment of shock, she was shaken – simmering? – at the news. She hadn't blown yet, though; in fact, she was too quiet to make him comfortable. At least she was still listening – or, maybe, still gathering information. Uncertain what exactly she was feeling – if she was mad at him for holding back, at Tony for knowing– or at merely another reminder that Manticore forever haunted her and set her apart, Logan couldn't tell. At least she's still listening....

"He stopped the investigation, Max, at least for several hours; he found out what had been going on, that you all were just kids, and he sent all the teams back to Washington. He never heard if the teams went back out, but even if they were – he bought you another day or two." Logan urged her understanding. "It might have made a difference, for some of you..."

"Is that what he told you?" She glowered, her voice low and intense.

"Yes." Logan urged, leaning forward and daring to take her hand. "And he also told me he won't say anything, to anyone, about you, about knowing that at least one Manticore child survived."

Max tried to hide how rattled the information left her, hitting her with the double round of the newly revealed history about her escape, and the added, too-coincidental drama in her present. The facts as Logan told them – learned directly from Tony, she had no doubt – painted his cousin yet again as a hero in Logan's eyes, but almost sounded too good to be true to Max's Manticore-honed life on the run. A current federal agent? Logan's own cousin? And now it appears he just happened to have been on her tail, a decade ago? Not only his actions back then, but his promises now, were hard to believe from a federal cop, and the information he now held would be nuclear if known by anyone else in his position. Logan trusted Tony completely and would swear by his every word, but was also entirely blinded by his loyalty and affection for his older cousin.

"And you believe him," she muttered, feeling utterly played, and utterly powerless with the amount of knowledge that might be out there – and passed on to those who were looking to put her back in a cage. "Of course you do – he's Tony, your 'big cuz;' the amazing cousin Tony who can do no wrong." Max pulled her hand away and got up to pace away from him, stopping to stare out of the large front window, wrapping her arms around herself, hugging herself, as if she was the only one she could trust in the face of her demons. Before Logan could respond, she turned back to him, bitterness in her voice, to ask, "even if you wanted to be objective, how in the world could you be, about him?" She wavered a moment, and turned back to stare, unseeing, out across the night sky, 'seeing,' in her head, Manticore and that escape so many years ago. Neither of them spoke for long moments until, finally, Max sagged a little and, in a smaller voice, asked, "so, if you didn't tell him – how did he know about me being a part of Manticore then, anyway?" She thought about it for the moment and turned back to Logan, again suspicious of too many coincidences. "How do you know he wasn't onto me the whole time, and that he didn't come out here instead of one of his team so he could snap me up too?"

"He didn't snap you up, Max..." Logan said gently, almost almost afraid to point out the obvious, given the circumstances, and expected exactly the grunt of exasperation he got in reply.

"Well, if he knows where to find me now, who's to say he's not coming back with reinforcements? Or that he's not off sharing a coffee and a chat with Lydecker? Logan, if he came out here becau..."

"He saw your bar code." Logan interrupted, and spoke again, voice quieter now. "He saw your bar code while he was out here, Max. He knew what it meant."

The information brought her up short, and her eyes flashed, reacting to the news of her own carelessness, then, wavering, she remembered...

"I don't know that he would have told me," Logan went on before she spoke, "it sort of ... came up, in another discussion. But when he told me about seeing it ... things made sense to him, how you reacted to Bling being shot, how you helped catch Parks. He just put what he'd learned about Manticore all those years ago with what he'd seen you do, since he'd been here. He didn't know right away. He didn't even really suspect, not until..."

"...until I took off my coat, out there, to cover Bling," she finished for him, the memory and her own part in things at least making her less suspicious and cornered, for the moment. "Tony stood behind me and held my coat for me to put back on, and I pulled my hair out of the way..." At Logan's nod, confirming the moment, she drew a deep breath, processing the information and rattled that someone so long a federal agent had chapter and verse – and location – on her. "How do we know he doesn't want me to come to Washington to turn me in?"

Logan took a moment to consider his words, then said, "You don't. You can't, and I understand why you can't take his promise at face value. But ... I know, because even after all this time, I know Tony. I trust him. Or maybe ... maybe I just trust that I know him," he admitted softly, "but I do trush him. And you're right; maybe it's impossible for me not to. But the way he spoke about, even now – and what I remember from back then, how I knew something had happened with him at work. He never told me a thing other than having been on a case, with implications that had disturbed him. Nothing else, then. It all fits, with what he told me about it now."

Logan looked up to see her back, as she had again turned away from him and toward the window, and ventured, "Max, I should have told you as soon as I knew, for so many reasons – not the least of which was that you had a right to assess for yourself whether or not he was a threat to you, no matter what I thought. I knew that then, as much as I do now, but ... things had been going so well, for all of us, for Tony's visit here ... and for us ..." He trailed off. The penthouse was deathly quiet for many moments, and, fearing the worst, he finally spoke again. "And ... selfishly ... I didn't want that to end. It was only fair that you know. It should have been sooner, but ... I couldn't expect you to go out to the wedding without knowing. So ... if you wanted to rethink your decision to come with me..."

She hadn't turned, hadn't broken her pose. Moments again ticked by, and he watched her, waiting. The silence unbearable, Logan broke it again. "Max ... I'm sorry..."

She finally spun at that. Looking down into the worried eyes, a thousand thoughts flashed through Max's mind, hundreds contradicting them, but she managed, tightly, "yeah? Well, me too, Logan..."

And without more, Max grabbed her jacket and stalked out the door, the slam of her departure ringing in the through the place until it was silent once more...

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

TBC, and Happy New Year!

(the Pulse is just around the corner... ;})