Author's Note: Set during/post "Female Trouble." The song is by Dave Matthews Band...thanks to my b/f for that one I guess; he's the one who got me listening to them. The characters aren't mine; this is just me writing for fun. One of these days I'm gonna turn this and my other episode-based fics ("Everything" and "I Looked Into Your Eyes") in a series. I'm taking title suggestions for said series. Okay, enough chitchat...Happy Reading!
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Max was hurt when Logan forgot about their plans. Not only because she had spent a good deal of money on the scalped basketball tickets, but because it was so very un-Logan Cale-like. That was her first clue something was not right. When Bling told her that Logan had sold the painting---the one left to him by his mother---Max grew even more suspicious. Original Cindy's warnings about the ways of the three-legged junior only gave Max more cause for concern. Not because she thought Logan was cheating on her-they were *just* friends after all---but because she knew something else was on his mind. She just didn't know what.
Driving to the clinic, Logan knew he was blowing off a date with max, something he had been dreaming about for a long time; something no sane man would do. However, he was not completely sane. And on some level Logan knew that. He was growing obsessed with staying on his feet. Ever since the accident, he had been reaching for that goal, but it had never seemed possible. Then, with Max's miraculous gift, the prospect of having a totally normal life once more was dangled tauntingly in front of him. And Logan was damned if he was going to have it snatched away.
Max knew Logan would be angry with her for following him to the clinic, but she didn't care. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized he was seeing a doctor. Looking down through the skylight, Max wanted to cry, or fight something, because she felt in some way responsible for Logan's paralysis. He had, after all, been wounded doing something she had refused to assist. She couldn't help but think maybe if she had been there, things would have turned out differently. Maybe that was why she now fought so hard for him. She couldn't bare the thought of anything else happening to him. Which was why, after having saved Doctor Vertese from Jace, Max was horrified to discover Logan's messiah-physician was a Manticore butcher.
Logan was furious when Max interrupted and disconnected the phone call with his Eyes Only informant. Then he saw the anger and hurt in her eyes, and the cuts, bruises, and blood on her face. For a moment, his heart softened and he wanted to take away all her pain. Then he began to feel his own excruciating pain and he got angry all over again. In some way, he was even getting angry at max, because her blood had stopped working. "I didn't want to tell you, for all kinds of reasons." He wondered if she knew what all those reasons were; he didn't want her pity, and he didn't want to make her feel bad that her blood had stopped working, nor did he want to admit to himself what was happening---he was too proud. Then his legs gave out. In front of Max. And he was furious.
For the second time in as many days, Max felt the sting of being pushed away by the all powerful, unneedy Logan Cale. Only this time, she actually *was* physically pushed away. His strength did not really surprise her; while he had been confined to the wheelchair, she knew he had been working out, especially concentrating on his upper body. But what hurt most, more than being pushed away or lied to, was the accusation, the implied meaning behind his words. "I gotta ask you. Is it easier with me in the chair?" The fury from that one question had caused her to fling the jacket at him, even though only moments before the only thing she had wanted to do was take him in her arms, if he would let her.
They drove to the safe house in an uneasy silence. Logan knew he had hurt Max, again, and that he shouldn't push her away, but all he could focus on at the moment was that he was frighteningly close to landing back in the chair, for good. Even her words, do heartfelt, that on any other day would have made him want to kiss her, did little to make him feel better. "For the first time in six months I felt what it was like to be whole again, to be complete."
"You've never not been that to me."
It was such an honest admission, Max showing him vulnerability she normally hid from everyone, but Logan was far too despondent to realize. Dimly, he wondered why he had stressed "anything" when he had told her staying out of the chair was the most important thing in his life. He knew truthfully that it wasn't; she was, and had been since the moment she had entered his life. But he was too busy trying to stay whole for her and for himself to see how far away he was pushing her.
The only reason she didn't let Jace get Vertese was that Logan needed her. He needed a Manticore doctor, truly one of the brides of Mengele, more than he needed Max. And Max felt the sting of not being needed. She liked that he needed her. It was the closest to feeling loved she had ever gotten. And Max had to admit, when Jace told her Lydecker had killed Vertese, she had wanted to weep. Because she knew as acutely as he did when she told him, that Logan's last chance for walking had just been exterminated from the face of the earth. Seeing the pain in his face when she told him broke Max's heart. She could hear the relief in his voice because she was safe, and still Manticore free, but she knew that Logan was hurting inside. Maybe that was why she had been so clumsy, to allow the file to be knocked from her hand. The words "despondent" and "suicidal thoughts" had made her so afraid she barely remembered dashing from Vertese's office and jumping on her bike. The only thing Max could think about was Logan, dead on the floor from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. And the pain from that image hurt more than any other pain she had ever felt.
As he sat in his office, banging his legs against the table, Logan wished he could feel pain. He wished he could feel hurt. He wished he could feel anything. All he felt was empty. The numbness in his lower extremities had made its way to his core, and he felt numb all over, inside and out. He couldn't feel happiness when he found out Max was safe. He couldn't feel comfort in her words that they would find another way. All he could feel was the aching, the emptiness, and the loneliness. He had Max, and yet not really---he wondered if anything happened to him, would she truly mourn. She had her sibs, her peeps, her job, and her ass to keep out of the Manticore sling. Did she really need him? Did anyone? Was Eyes Only more of his own personal crusade than a national help? Would the world really miss Eyes Only? Would the world really miss Logan Cale? He knew his family wouldn't. Bling might, for a while, but he'd get over it. And Max, Max was strong. She would survive. Who knows, she might even survive better without him than with him. The gun felt cold, heavy in his hand-it was the only thing he'd been able to feel in days that wasn't pain form injections or frustration from failure. And then he felt the water.
Max's heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the streets of Seattle, playing Lydecker wasn't on the prowl, or she wouldn't get pulled over for speeding by Sector police. The wind whipped at her face and tried the tears as fast as they fell. For that, she was thankful. No matter what she discovered when arriving at Foggle Towers, Logan did *not* need to see her crying. The ambulance in front of the building made Max's heart skip a beat. She ditched her bike and raced up the stairs to his apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Besides, it was on the floor above Logan's---it would take too long to descend to her and return to his floor. She could hear the silence in his apartment and it frightened her-he was not there. Did that mean he was in the ambulance? She did not smell blood, nor did she smell gunpowder or the smoke of a recently fired gun. Then she heard the click of his front door and the familiar sound of the wheels of his chair moving across the hard wood floor. She flew in that direction and propelled herself in his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his body, calming her fears with the sounds of his breathing, rejoicing in his scent and feeling his arms around her.
Logan had to admit, he was shocked when he had found Max in his apartment, her eyes full of fear. He could see her chest rise and fall sharply as she tried to catch her breath. Before he realized what was happening she was at his side and in his arms, telling him how scared she was. He buried his face in her soft dark hair and inhaled her scent, feeling himself pulled back into reality. He could feel the weight of her in his arms. He could feel her arm around his waist and shoulders as she clutched him desperately. He could feel her sigh of relief when he told her it was okay. He could feel again. He could feel her. Then he remembered the gun was still sitting out in the open. There was nothing he could do but put it away, even though he knew she would see it. He just hoped he could keep up his "I'm a Despondent Bastard" act long enough to put the gun away with revealing to her how close he had come to using it on himself.
"Is she gonna be okay?" Max asked, knowing that she wasn't really asking about the old woman upstairs. She watched as he put the gun away and wondered what he would have done if the water from the overflowed sink hadn't begun to drip on him.
"Yeah," he smiled half-heartedly, applying the question to himself. Was he going to be okay? He had nearly blown himself away. And for what? Because he might be back in a wheelchair. He wondered how much justification that actually was. The woman upstairs had been right---he *did* have everything to live for. He was young, and well to do, and even if he felt guilty for it, it was a fact of his life. He had family, even if they were insufferable, and he had friends. And he had Max. Which was probably his greatest gift of all. Logan felt a pang as he realized how close he had come to losing it all, to losing her, between going to Vertese behind her back and nearly killing himself. He could see the relief in her eyes and hope swelled through him. As did guilt---because he knew he had hurt her. Numerous times.
They stared at each other in silence for what seemed like hours. Then they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time. Blushing, Max and Logan went back and forth for a few minutes on who should speak until they laughed at the silliness of such an argument. Logan decided to go first, but he suggested they move into the living room. It was more comfortable than the cramped computer room---the one with the gun in the corner drawer.
They sat on the couch, a cushion apart, Max waiting for Logan to speak, Logan waiting to get the courage too. Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke. "I'm sorry."
*You cannot quit me so quickly
Is no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But I've got all the time for you love*
Max softened and all the anger she had been harboring drained from her body. She knew what he was apologizing for, but she still had to know. "You were going to do it, weren't you?"
*Damn*, Logan thought, knowing she knew what he had been up too. He looked nervously at his hands, then out the window. Turning back to Max, he sighed, 'How did you know?"
She frowned, "Didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to answer a question with a question?"
He chuckled.
*The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more
The space between
The wicked lies we tell to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again*
Max reached out and took his hand, "Logan talk to me, please." It was a huge jump for her, Max Guerva, also known as She Who Didn't Give a Damn. But the truth was, she *did* give a damn. Especially about the wounded and broken man sitting across from her.
*These fickle fuddled words confuse me
Like will it rain today
We waste the hours with talking talking
These twisted games we're playing*
Logan averted his eyes. He knew he was going to get lost in hers if he wasn't careful. "Max, I'm fine, really."
She growled, "You're not fine. You might be on your way to fine and dandy, but you're not even nearing Spiffy-ville at the moment. And if you are, it's because some gimpy old woman with a bad hip gave you an epiphany." Max's temper flared and she struggled to control it.
Logan hung his head. "How the hell do you know me so well?"
*We're strange allies
With warring hearts
What a wild eyed beast you be*
Max shrugged, "I dunno."
*The space between
The wicked lies we tell that hope to keep us safe from the pain*
As Logan watched, Max scooted across the couch and sat close to him, unknowingly positioning herself so that, to the unknowingly spectator, it looked like his arm was around her. "So," she ventured cautiously. "How close were you to blowing it all away?"
His head dropped against his arm and he realized how close her face was to his. He could feel her warm breath against his skin. *I almost gave all this up* he realized sadly. Looking into her eyes, Logan admitted, "I probably would have done it if the water hadn't gotten me."
That sent Max reeling. In her heart, she had known the truth, but hearing the words spoken made it too real. "Why?" she demanded, springing off the couch. "How could you do that?" *To me?* her mind added. *Shut up!* Max yelled at her own inner monologue.
*Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster
You know you went off like the devil in the church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do my love
Is hope we don't take this ship down*
Logan could see the anger and fear in her eyes and wondered where the fear had come from. He knew they were friends, but he was genuinely surprised to discover how pained his loss would have made her. *Oh come on Cale, you know she digs you,* Logan heard a voice that sounded like Bling. And he felt guilty. Because he *did* know. He loved her. And he began beating himself for thinking he could make things easier by removing himself from her life. Because deep down, he knew that it would kill her as much if he died as it would him if she died.
"Max," he said softly, extending an arm to her. "Sit down. Let me try to explain." Hesitantly, Max sat, back on the other side of the couch, away from him.
*The space between
Where you smile and hide
That's where you'll find me if I get to go*
"Start talking'," she said firmly. "Make me understand."
He sighed, "It started the night you ran off to get Zach. As if that didn't hurt enough, my legs gave out not long after you left. At first, I thought it was a fluke, but it happened again, when I started to make us dinner again when we got back from helping Tinga." Logan watched as Max put the pieces together. She simply nodded, expecting him to continue. He took a deep breath, "I didn't want you to know." He frowned. "I said that before."
She nodded, smiling sympathetically, "You said you didn't want to tell me, for all kinds of reasons. What reasons, Logan?"
He threw up his hands, "Because I didn't want you to feel bad that the blood wasn't working. I didn't want you to try it again, or something riskier, just so I could walk. And I was too damned afraid because if I admitted it to you, I would be admitting it to myself. I guess you could say I was too proud."
She chuckled, "Hell, I could have told you that, Logan Cale. You are one of the proudest men I know."
*The space between
The bullets in our fire fight
Is where I'll be hiding waiting for you
The rain that falls
Splashed in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room*
Max climbed closer to him again, "But you're also one of the men I know who I'm proudest of. As much as I kick your ass about it, I think it's wonderful what you do with Eyes Only." She could see the shock waves that admission sent through him and she smiled.
*The space between
Our wicked lies is
The hope to keep safe from pain*
Logan blushed slightly, knowing she was noticing it, "Thank you Max. You don't know what that means to me."
*You don't know how much you mean to me*, she thought, but decided not to say. Instead, she reached out to him, placing a hand on top of his, "Logan, from now on, if you get like that, you have to tell me." She took a giant step, "We have to stop keeping secrets from each other."
*Take my hand
Cause we're walking out of here
Right out of here
Is all we need dear*
Logan stared into her eyes, searching for anything hidden there. To his surprise, he found her eyes completely open and expressive. She meant it. "I-I promise," he stuttered.
*The space between
What's wrong and right
Is where you'll find me hiding
Waiting for you*
Then Logan flashed her one of his winning smiled and she tried not to melt. "That goes for you too, you know," he said. "You can't keep secrets either."
Max nodded, "I know. I'll try."
*The space between
Your heart and mind
Is the space we'll fill with time*
"So will I," he promised sincerely.
*The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The space between
Our wicked lies where we hope to keep safe from pain*
Max and Logan sat in silence for a long time. It grew dark in Seattle and the friends remained, enjoying each other's company. They both realized how close they had come to losing each other and it frightened them, more than either of them wanted to admit. To Logan's surprise, at one point, Max snuggled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she had explained, "I've been kicking ass for days, trying to keep Jace out of Lydecker's jaws, and running all over Seattle hoping you were still alive. I think I need a little sleep, don't you?"
He smiled, "Of course. You could sleep in the guest room."
"Nah," she said sleepily. "It'll just be a nap. Here's fine, unless of course you want me to move."
"Nah," he murmured, kissing her hair, hoping she wouldn't bolt. "I like it here fine."
"Me too, she mumbled before slipping off to sleep. As she slumbered, Logan watched her, thinking of how peaceful she felt. Once again, she had saved his life. If she hadn't been in the apartment, despite Mrs. Morone's words, Logan knew he might have still pulled the trigger, simply because he was feeling sorry for himself.
Logan relished the feeling of having Max in his arms, knowing it wouldn't last too long. She had to get down to the South market to see Jace off, he knew. Logan also knew that it was the eleventh anniversary of her escape from Manticore. He wondered if he should offer to celebrate. Then he looked down upon her napping form, and knew that this was enough. For now.
*The space between
The space between*
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Please R&R!!!! It's the nice thing to do.
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Max was hurt when Logan forgot about their plans. Not only because she had spent a good deal of money on the scalped basketball tickets, but because it was so very un-Logan Cale-like. That was her first clue something was not right. When Bling told her that Logan had sold the painting---the one left to him by his mother---Max grew even more suspicious. Original Cindy's warnings about the ways of the three-legged junior only gave Max more cause for concern. Not because she thought Logan was cheating on her-they were *just* friends after all---but because she knew something else was on his mind. She just didn't know what.
Driving to the clinic, Logan knew he was blowing off a date with max, something he had been dreaming about for a long time; something no sane man would do. However, he was not completely sane. And on some level Logan knew that. He was growing obsessed with staying on his feet. Ever since the accident, he had been reaching for that goal, but it had never seemed possible. Then, with Max's miraculous gift, the prospect of having a totally normal life once more was dangled tauntingly in front of him. And Logan was damned if he was going to have it snatched away.
Max knew Logan would be angry with her for following him to the clinic, but she didn't care. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized he was seeing a doctor. Looking down through the skylight, Max wanted to cry, or fight something, because she felt in some way responsible for Logan's paralysis. He had, after all, been wounded doing something she had refused to assist. She couldn't help but think maybe if she had been there, things would have turned out differently. Maybe that was why she now fought so hard for him. She couldn't bare the thought of anything else happening to him. Which was why, after having saved Doctor Vertese from Jace, Max was horrified to discover Logan's messiah-physician was a Manticore butcher.
Logan was furious when Max interrupted and disconnected the phone call with his Eyes Only informant. Then he saw the anger and hurt in her eyes, and the cuts, bruises, and blood on her face. For a moment, his heart softened and he wanted to take away all her pain. Then he began to feel his own excruciating pain and he got angry all over again. In some way, he was even getting angry at max, because her blood had stopped working. "I didn't want to tell you, for all kinds of reasons." He wondered if she knew what all those reasons were; he didn't want her pity, and he didn't want to make her feel bad that her blood had stopped working, nor did he want to admit to himself what was happening---he was too proud. Then his legs gave out. In front of Max. And he was furious.
For the second time in as many days, Max felt the sting of being pushed away by the all powerful, unneedy Logan Cale. Only this time, she actually *was* physically pushed away. His strength did not really surprise her; while he had been confined to the wheelchair, she knew he had been working out, especially concentrating on his upper body. But what hurt most, more than being pushed away or lied to, was the accusation, the implied meaning behind his words. "I gotta ask you. Is it easier with me in the chair?" The fury from that one question had caused her to fling the jacket at him, even though only moments before the only thing she had wanted to do was take him in her arms, if he would let her.
They drove to the safe house in an uneasy silence. Logan knew he had hurt Max, again, and that he shouldn't push her away, but all he could focus on at the moment was that he was frighteningly close to landing back in the chair, for good. Even her words, do heartfelt, that on any other day would have made him want to kiss her, did little to make him feel better. "For the first time in six months I felt what it was like to be whole again, to be complete."
"You've never not been that to me."
It was such an honest admission, Max showing him vulnerability she normally hid from everyone, but Logan was far too despondent to realize. Dimly, he wondered why he had stressed "anything" when he had told her staying out of the chair was the most important thing in his life. He knew truthfully that it wasn't; she was, and had been since the moment she had entered his life. But he was too busy trying to stay whole for her and for himself to see how far away he was pushing her.
The only reason she didn't let Jace get Vertese was that Logan needed her. He needed a Manticore doctor, truly one of the brides of Mengele, more than he needed Max. And Max felt the sting of not being needed. She liked that he needed her. It was the closest to feeling loved she had ever gotten. And Max had to admit, when Jace told her Lydecker had killed Vertese, she had wanted to weep. Because she knew as acutely as he did when she told him, that Logan's last chance for walking had just been exterminated from the face of the earth. Seeing the pain in his face when she told him broke Max's heart. She could hear the relief in his voice because she was safe, and still Manticore free, but she knew that Logan was hurting inside. Maybe that was why she had been so clumsy, to allow the file to be knocked from her hand. The words "despondent" and "suicidal thoughts" had made her so afraid she barely remembered dashing from Vertese's office and jumping on her bike. The only thing Max could think about was Logan, dead on the floor from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. And the pain from that image hurt more than any other pain she had ever felt.
As he sat in his office, banging his legs against the table, Logan wished he could feel pain. He wished he could feel hurt. He wished he could feel anything. All he felt was empty. The numbness in his lower extremities had made its way to his core, and he felt numb all over, inside and out. He couldn't feel happiness when he found out Max was safe. He couldn't feel comfort in her words that they would find another way. All he could feel was the aching, the emptiness, and the loneliness. He had Max, and yet not really---he wondered if anything happened to him, would she truly mourn. She had her sibs, her peeps, her job, and her ass to keep out of the Manticore sling. Did she really need him? Did anyone? Was Eyes Only more of his own personal crusade than a national help? Would the world really miss Eyes Only? Would the world really miss Logan Cale? He knew his family wouldn't. Bling might, for a while, but he'd get over it. And Max, Max was strong. She would survive. Who knows, she might even survive better without him than with him. The gun felt cold, heavy in his hand-it was the only thing he'd been able to feel in days that wasn't pain form injections or frustration from failure. And then he felt the water.
Max's heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the streets of Seattle, playing Lydecker wasn't on the prowl, or she wouldn't get pulled over for speeding by Sector police. The wind whipped at her face and tried the tears as fast as they fell. For that, she was thankful. No matter what she discovered when arriving at Foggle Towers, Logan did *not* need to see her crying. The ambulance in front of the building made Max's heart skip a beat. She ditched her bike and raced up the stairs to his apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Besides, it was on the floor above Logan's---it would take too long to descend to her and return to his floor. She could hear the silence in his apartment and it frightened her-he was not there. Did that mean he was in the ambulance? She did not smell blood, nor did she smell gunpowder or the smoke of a recently fired gun. Then she heard the click of his front door and the familiar sound of the wheels of his chair moving across the hard wood floor. She flew in that direction and propelled herself in his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his body, calming her fears with the sounds of his breathing, rejoicing in his scent and feeling his arms around her.
Logan had to admit, he was shocked when he had found Max in his apartment, her eyes full of fear. He could see her chest rise and fall sharply as she tried to catch her breath. Before he realized what was happening she was at his side and in his arms, telling him how scared she was. He buried his face in her soft dark hair and inhaled her scent, feeling himself pulled back into reality. He could feel the weight of her in his arms. He could feel her arm around his waist and shoulders as she clutched him desperately. He could feel her sigh of relief when he told her it was okay. He could feel again. He could feel her. Then he remembered the gun was still sitting out in the open. There was nothing he could do but put it away, even though he knew she would see it. He just hoped he could keep up his "I'm a Despondent Bastard" act long enough to put the gun away with revealing to her how close he had come to using it on himself.
"Is she gonna be okay?" Max asked, knowing that she wasn't really asking about the old woman upstairs. She watched as he put the gun away and wondered what he would have done if the water from the overflowed sink hadn't begun to drip on him.
"Yeah," he smiled half-heartedly, applying the question to himself. Was he going to be okay? He had nearly blown himself away. And for what? Because he might be back in a wheelchair. He wondered how much justification that actually was. The woman upstairs had been right---he *did* have everything to live for. He was young, and well to do, and even if he felt guilty for it, it was a fact of his life. He had family, even if they were insufferable, and he had friends. And he had Max. Which was probably his greatest gift of all. Logan felt a pang as he realized how close he had come to losing it all, to losing her, between going to Vertese behind her back and nearly killing himself. He could see the relief in her eyes and hope swelled through him. As did guilt---because he knew he had hurt her. Numerous times.
They stared at each other in silence for what seemed like hours. Then they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time. Blushing, Max and Logan went back and forth for a few minutes on who should speak until they laughed at the silliness of such an argument. Logan decided to go first, but he suggested they move into the living room. It was more comfortable than the cramped computer room---the one with the gun in the corner drawer.
They sat on the couch, a cushion apart, Max waiting for Logan to speak, Logan waiting to get the courage too. Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke. "I'm sorry."
*You cannot quit me so quickly
Is no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But I've got all the time for you love*
Max softened and all the anger she had been harboring drained from her body. She knew what he was apologizing for, but she still had to know. "You were going to do it, weren't you?"
*Damn*, Logan thought, knowing she knew what he had been up too. He looked nervously at his hands, then out the window. Turning back to Max, he sighed, 'How did you know?"
She frowned, "Didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to answer a question with a question?"
He chuckled.
*The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more
The space between
The wicked lies we tell to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again*
Max reached out and took his hand, "Logan talk to me, please." It was a huge jump for her, Max Guerva, also known as She Who Didn't Give a Damn. But the truth was, she *did* give a damn. Especially about the wounded and broken man sitting across from her.
*These fickle fuddled words confuse me
Like will it rain today
We waste the hours with talking talking
These twisted games we're playing*
Logan averted his eyes. He knew he was going to get lost in hers if he wasn't careful. "Max, I'm fine, really."
She growled, "You're not fine. You might be on your way to fine and dandy, but you're not even nearing Spiffy-ville at the moment. And if you are, it's because some gimpy old woman with a bad hip gave you an epiphany." Max's temper flared and she struggled to control it.
Logan hung his head. "How the hell do you know me so well?"
*We're strange allies
With warring hearts
What a wild eyed beast you be*
Max shrugged, "I dunno."
*The space between
The wicked lies we tell that hope to keep us safe from the pain*
As Logan watched, Max scooted across the couch and sat close to him, unknowingly positioning herself so that, to the unknowingly spectator, it looked like his arm was around her. "So," she ventured cautiously. "How close were you to blowing it all away?"
His head dropped against his arm and he realized how close her face was to his. He could feel her warm breath against his skin. *I almost gave all this up* he realized sadly. Looking into her eyes, Logan admitted, "I probably would have done it if the water hadn't gotten me."
That sent Max reeling. In her heart, she had known the truth, but hearing the words spoken made it too real. "Why?" she demanded, springing off the couch. "How could you do that?" *To me?* her mind added. *Shut up!* Max yelled at her own inner monologue.
*Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster
You know you went off like the devil in the church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do my love
Is hope we don't take this ship down*
Logan could see the anger and fear in her eyes and wondered where the fear had come from. He knew they were friends, but he was genuinely surprised to discover how pained his loss would have made her. *Oh come on Cale, you know she digs you,* Logan heard a voice that sounded like Bling. And he felt guilty. Because he *did* know. He loved her. And he began beating himself for thinking he could make things easier by removing himself from her life. Because deep down, he knew that it would kill her as much if he died as it would him if she died.
"Max," he said softly, extending an arm to her. "Sit down. Let me try to explain." Hesitantly, Max sat, back on the other side of the couch, away from him.
*The space between
Where you smile and hide
That's where you'll find me if I get to go*
"Start talking'," she said firmly. "Make me understand."
He sighed, "It started the night you ran off to get Zach. As if that didn't hurt enough, my legs gave out not long after you left. At first, I thought it was a fluke, but it happened again, when I started to make us dinner again when we got back from helping Tinga." Logan watched as Max put the pieces together. She simply nodded, expecting him to continue. He took a deep breath, "I didn't want you to know." He frowned. "I said that before."
She nodded, smiling sympathetically, "You said you didn't want to tell me, for all kinds of reasons. What reasons, Logan?"
He threw up his hands, "Because I didn't want you to feel bad that the blood wasn't working. I didn't want you to try it again, or something riskier, just so I could walk. And I was too damned afraid because if I admitted it to you, I would be admitting it to myself. I guess you could say I was too proud."
She chuckled, "Hell, I could have told you that, Logan Cale. You are one of the proudest men I know."
*The space between
The bullets in our fire fight
Is where I'll be hiding waiting for you
The rain that falls
Splashed in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room*
Max climbed closer to him again, "But you're also one of the men I know who I'm proudest of. As much as I kick your ass about it, I think it's wonderful what you do with Eyes Only." She could see the shock waves that admission sent through him and she smiled.
*The space between
Our wicked lies is
The hope to keep safe from pain*
Logan blushed slightly, knowing she was noticing it, "Thank you Max. You don't know what that means to me."
*You don't know how much you mean to me*, she thought, but decided not to say. Instead, she reached out to him, placing a hand on top of his, "Logan, from now on, if you get like that, you have to tell me." She took a giant step, "We have to stop keeping secrets from each other."
*Take my hand
Cause we're walking out of here
Right out of here
Is all we need dear*
Logan stared into her eyes, searching for anything hidden there. To his surprise, he found her eyes completely open and expressive. She meant it. "I-I promise," he stuttered.
*The space between
What's wrong and right
Is where you'll find me hiding
Waiting for you*
Then Logan flashed her one of his winning smiled and she tried not to melt. "That goes for you too, you know," he said. "You can't keep secrets either."
Max nodded, "I know. I'll try."
*The space between
Your heart and mind
Is the space we'll fill with time*
"So will I," he promised sincerely.
*The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The space between
Our wicked lies where we hope to keep safe from pain*
Max and Logan sat in silence for a long time. It grew dark in Seattle and the friends remained, enjoying each other's company. They both realized how close they had come to losing each other and it frightened them, more than either of them wanted to admit. To Logan's surprise, at one point, Max snuggled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she had explained, "I've been kicking ass for days, trying to keep Jace out of Lydecker's jaws, and running all over Seattle hoping you were still alive. I think I need a little sleep, don't you?"
He smiled, "Of course. You could sleep in the guest room."
"Nah," she said sleepily. "It'll just be a nap. Here's fine, unless of course you want me to move."
"Nah," he murmured, kissing her hair, hoping she wouldn't bolt. "I like it here fine."
"Me too, she mumbled before slipping off to sleep. As she slumbered, Logan watched her, thinking of how peaceful she felt. Once again, she had saved his life. If she hadn't been in the apartment, despite Mrs. Morone's words, Logan knew he might have still pulled the trigger, simply because he was feeling sorry for himself.
Logan relished the feeling of having Max in his arms, knowing it wouldn't last too long. She had to get down to the South market to see Jace off, he knew. Logan also knew that it was the eleventh anniversary of her escape from Manticore. He wondered if he should offer to celebrate. Then he looked down upon her napping form, and knew that this was enough. For now.
*The space between
The space between*
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Please R&R!!!! It's the nice thing to do.
