Author's note: So sorry about the delay, but I was on vacation and couldn't post

Author's note: So sorry about the delay, but I was on vacation and couldn't post. This chapter is pretty boring, but it'll get VERY interesting, VERY soon… I promise!!! Please keep reviewing! Hope you all like it!

Chapter 7: Strawberries

The apartment was so goddamn nice.

And he'd never really taken the time to notice that before. It was always the means to an end, background. He knew this place like the back of his hand, it had no more meaning to him, it had borne witness to too many things, it was only there for use. But, suddenly, he realized how lucky he was, in a startlingly tangible way. He had more then anyone in this twisted world could hope to even want, for Chrissake's, he even had his own interior designer—well, if he wanted to use her services, which Logan didn't…

Seattle was notorious for it's gray skies, yet Logan was never out in the rain, the wet, the cold, he wasn't at the mercy of any of the elements, he always had abundant light streaming through the windows.

It occurred to him to be grateful.

Then again, it was easy to be grateful when in the real world, away from nightmare dreamscapes, with a beautiful woman walking by his side.

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" Max asked quietly, once they were in the kitchen.

Logan kept his head down, "In a bit. You want to tell me what happened there?" He began puttering around the kitchen, starting to retrieve what he would need to make pancakes.

"Not really. I think I saw one of your dreams…" Again. Max added silently, "What are we making for the kids?"

"Pancakes," Logan responded, "What part did you see?" He was too tired to be afraid of how much she could know.

"I think all of it… I 'walked in' when we… were dancing… And it ended after I… got shot…" Max's brow furrowed as she turned away from Logan, trying to stifle the concern she had for him that was threatening to derail her, "What do you need from the fridge?"

"Eggs and cream, if you don't mind." He paused, opening a drawer and rummaging for a whisk, "Huh. That sounds like all of it… Could you get the sugar and flour from on top of the counter, while you're over there?"

"Sure thing." She retrieved everything and brought it over to him, "I probably saw it because of those kids, huh?"

"That's what I'm guessing." Logan grabbed the pancake mix and started throwing things into a bowl, "They were talking about manipulating human minds like they were energy fields, right? Like… Like we're transmitters, and they're the antennae…" He began beating the eggs, "They probably just happen to have this kind of effect on people, especially while they're asleep, when they have no more control over it. Hey, I forgot to ask for the butter—"

"No prob." Max buried her head in the fridge.

"Of course, this is all speculation," she tossed him a stick of butter and he caught it deftly, "Thanks. We can ask them about it when they wake up."

Max nodded, thinking to herself that it was fine with her if she never knew what had just happened in there. God, it had been so frightening… To be so intimately aware of his thoughts, yet to be in command of herself at the same time… Feeling his pain so well and being able to do nothing about it… It was chilling. No matter how much he had opened himself up to her before, nothing could prepare her for how deep his emotions ran… especially where she was involved.

"Yeah… I'm surprised that they've slept this long… after all, they are biosynths…"

Logan mixed the batter viciously, "I don't care what they are, they're little kids…" Logan put the whisk down, inclining his head towards Max. "And, judging from their behavior, very scared little kids who've been running for a very long time…" She had the sneaking suspicion that he was talking about her, however indirectly.

"You can't help feeling badly for them… But…"

He turned back and began to work again, "But what?"

"They might still be playing us. Especially if they were telling us at least a partial truth and they can manipulate minds. That dream, me seeing it, it might've been them trying to throw us off balance."

"Did it throw you off balance?" He asked, tone candid, even though he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Max bent down, her lithe body moving like liquid, "Yes," she admitted readily, not meeting his eyes, either. "It's a good tactic." She found a pan and showed it to him, "This good?"

"It's fine, thanks." He took it from her hands and placed it on the stove.

"I didn't offend you by suggesting they might be playing us…?"

Logan shrugged, "The thought crossed my mind. But, still… I'm gonna assume they're innocent until proven guilty."

"We should still take precautions," Max began, her voice becoming heated.

"I know that," Logan broke in smoothly, "And we will. I just don't want to accuse them of anything just yet."

Hoisting herself up to sit on a countertop, Max watched the back of Logan's shoulder's as he worked. He was getting stronger, his white T-shirt showed off his biceps, which were getting more and more well defined every single time she noticed… Which was often, lately. The batter hit the pan with a gratifying hiss.

"Neither do I…" They were both quiet for a little while, Logan only interrupting her thoughts once to ask for her to retrieve a plate. It was a companionable silence, it usually was, considering that whenever they had a disagreement, one of them was wont to leave.

Logan's word came out of nowhere, "It keeps getting worse, doesn't it? What they do… it's more and more monstrous, the more I hear about it…"

Bowing her head, Max stayed silent, hiding her eyes behind a curtain of hair, in case he turned around.

"It must be difficult… To hear about it."

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do." Was Max's cryptic answer.

There was a few seconds of silence, "But it's got to hurt." Logan left it at that, slowly, the pile on pancakes grew.

"Sometimes." Max admitted, "But it goes away…"

"At least, before it comes back again…" they both smiled ironically at this, life always seemed to happen that way.

"'Life isn't one damn thing after another,'" Max quoted a sticker she'd seen on someone's bike the other day, "'It's the same damn thing over… and over…'"

Flashing her a grin, Logan lifted the pan off the stove, "I think this is done." He told her, reaching to deposit the dirty pan in the sink.

"Want me to clean up?"

"Nah, that can wait 'till after we eat… Should we wake them up?" Logan handed Max the plate and gestured for her to go sit at the table, he began to gather plates, utensils, syrup… Real maple syrup that cost about one-hundred bucks a bottle. Not as much as it would have sounded twenty years ago, considering inflation, but still a pretty penny.

"No… We can always heat it up again."

"True." He wheeled himself over to the table, suppressing a sigh that came out of nowhere.

"Do you want me to say the prayer?" He asked, looking back and forth between his parents.

Mom smiled, "Of course you can."

"Dear Lord, I want to thank you for the wonderful food, and Juanita, who cooked it, and I wanna thank you for giving me a wonderful Mom and Dad who love me very much… and I want to thank you for giving Dad all his money, and I want to thank you for letting me get a wonderful education." Logan looked up at Dad hesitantly, "Is that good?"

Logan's father suppressed a smile and nodded.

"Okay. A-men."

"Amen." His parents echoed.

Juanita, the cook, entered the room, carrying a pitcher of water, "The food looks wonderful, Juanita." Mother told the woman.

"Why, thank-you Mrs. Cale. But wait until you taste it."

"Do you want strawberries with that?" Logan remembered he had some in the fridge.

"You have strawberries!? Hell's yeah." Max told him, her eyes lighting up.

"Juanita… Uhm…" Logan shifted his weight and shoved his glasses up farther onto his nose, "I was wondering…" he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"What is it, chiquito?" she asked.

"Uh… Nothing…"

"Come on…" Juanita wiped her dimpled hands on her apron, "you can tell me!"

"Well…" It all came out in a rush, "Dad's birthday is coming up, and now that we have all this money and everything, there's nothing I can get him that he can't get himself, and, well, I was wondering… Could you teach me how to cook?" He looked down at his feet.

"Of course! What would you like to make him?"

"Something REALLY complicated!" Logan exclaimed with childish enthusiasm, "So he'll be REALLY impressed!"

"I don't know, chiquito… You're just starting out… Maybe something simpler then you have in mind?" Juanita could see in his eyes that he was having visions of roast duck, or some such.

"No… Don't worry, you'll be helping me, it'll be GREAT… And it has to be REALLY complicated… REALLY impressive…"

Juanita smiled, but it was troubled, she knew that it would take a lot to get Mr. Cale to be impressed… Logan was constantly jumping through hoops for his father, who, it seemed, was impervious.

"Alright… Do you have a spare hour? We should start planning now, it's only a few weeks away."

"Okay!" He clambered onto a stool, eager to learn.

"What are his favorite foods…?"

Logan took out a cutting board and began chopping up the fruit, "Where do you find this stuff?!" Max exclaimed, delighted at the treasure.

Humbly, he shrugged, "Around."