Chapter Eight
Max climbed into the bed, Logan still standing in the doorway, holding the duffle bags. When Logan had opened the door, Max looked like she was about to drop, so he took her arm and led her straight to the guest bedroom. The doctor had warned Logan that she would be very tired for the first couple of days and would need to sleep quite a bit. But it was still startling to see a woman who had barely ever slept at all before the accident crawl weakly into bed and fall almost immediately asleep.
Logan quietly moved across the room to sit the bags inside the closet, and then turned to the bed. He pulled the covers up over Max's shoulder, tucking the quilt around her. Brushing a hand over her sleeping face, he turned and walked from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Max awoke with a start about two hours later. The blanket was tangled around her waist haphazardly from her tossing and turning. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat and she was gasping weakly for breath.
Max knew she had just had some sort of nightmare, and she was quickly losing track of what the dream had been about. Though she did remember a few details, it had been dark, late at night she assumed. It was cold and snow was all around her. There was someone else at her side, a child, and they were running through the snow together. When Max had felt her self stumble and fall into icy cold water, that was when she'd awoken, terrified and shivering.
Hearing the sounds of banging pots and pans from outside the room, Max pulled the blanket aside and stepped onto the cold hardwood floors. The first thing Max did was walk around her room, studying each section of the room, everything from sitting in the comfortable chair that was in one corner to looking under the bed to see what she would find.
When she opened the closet and found her two bags sitting neatly inside, she pulled a sweater out of one of them and yanked it quickly over her head. Whether it was because of the pouring rain she observed from her window, or from the terrifying dream she had just had, Max was absolutely freezing.
After she felt she had satisfactorily searched the room, she stepped out into the hallway. Following the sounds of life, she found Logan in the kitchen. Standing silent in the doorway, she studied the room for a moment.
Logan stood at the counter, his back to the door where Max stood, steadily chopping something on a wooden cutting board. Max watched him, observing his quick efficient skill of dumping now sliced vegetables into a skillet and stirring in various spices with various ease.
Logan turned away from the counter, pulling open a cabinet behind him, and grabbing a canister of some sort out off of the shelf. That was when he saw Max lurking shyly in the doorway.
Never, not once, in his life, had he ever seen Max looking shy. Uncomfortable, maybe. Unsure, probably. Shy, never.
"Hey, have a nice nap?" Logan asked as he smiled, trying to welcome her into the room.
Max thought briefly of the haunting dream. "Yeah, it was okay." She continued standing in the doorway, watching Logan as he stirred the contents of the sizzling skillet once again.
"Are you hungry now, I am sure there is something around here you can snack on till I get the rest of dinner ready."
"Nah, I am fine. So you cook?" Max asked carefully, trying to start some conversation, any conversation to avoid the uncomfortable silence that would reign if they didn't.
"Yeah, that is what we'd do a lot of the time, I'd cook, you'd eat, you'd slaughter me at chess."
"I was good at chess?" Max asked, grabbing this little detail about her old life with two hands.
"Yeah, you were awesome at it. Only times I ever won was when you let me. If you want we can play a few games tonight."
"Ok." Max said, glancing over her shoulder. They both dropped into silence. After a moment, Max spoke. "Did I spend a lot of time here?"
"Sure, I guess you did." Logan said, carefully avoiding his fleeting thought of 'not nearly enough.'
"Well, as long as you don't mind, I am going to go look around, see if I can remember anything." Max said, desperate to flee the room.
"That is fine, make yourself at home." Logan replied softly, shaken by their blatant lack of conversation.
When Max backpedaled out of the room a moment later, Logan gave himself a second to lean his head against to cabinet in front of him, closing his eyes.
This was killing him, having Max back, but not really. In those three days that she had been in a coma, Logan spent hours thinking of all the things he never had a chance to say to her, things that they'd never been able to do together. He'd wanted her back so desperately.
In his months of paralysis, one of the things that had kept him going every day was the fact that he knew that if he didn't get out of bed, he'd miss the chance to see Max, to talk with her, to get his ass kicked at chess by her. It had been so great, for the first time in his life, having someone who was honest enough to speak her opinion, intelligent enough for her opinion to make sense, and money playing no part in that opinion. Having someone that he didn't have to hide from, not only hiding Eyes-Only, but hiding behind the thick walls he'd built around him self since he had divorced Valerie.
So now that he had her back from the brink of death, he was happy she was alive, but it was killing him not be able to talk with her like had used to. This uncomfortable, unrelenting silence was as heartbreaking as it was pathetic. There was no reason that Logan had treat Max any differently than he had before the accident.
Even as Logan thought this he knew he was lying to himself. There was every reason to treat her differently. She didn't remember her Manticore past, she didn't remember Eye's-Only, she didn't even know about the evenings they used to share together over a glass of wine and a plate of pasta.
Logan hoped it would eventually get better as Max began to regain her memories. Then he wondered if she never did regain her memories, how long would it take before she left him to move onto a new life?
Max climbed into the bed, Logan still standing in the doorway, holding the duffle bags. When Logan had opened the door, Max looked like she was about to drop, so he took her arm and led her straight to the guest bedroom. The doctor had warned Logan that she would be very tired for the first couple of days and would need to sleep quite a bit. But it was still startling to see a woman who had barely ever slept at all before the accident crawl weakly into bed and fall almost immediately asleep.
Logan quietly moved across the room to sit the bags inside the closet, and then turned to the bed. He pulled the covers up over Max's shoulder, tucking the quilt around her. Brushing a hand over her sleeping face, he turned and walked from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Max awoke with a start about two hours later. The blanket was tangled around her waist haphazardly from her tossing and turning. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat and she was gasping weakly for breath.
Max knew she had just had some sort of nightmare, and she was quickly losing track of what the dream had been about. Though she did remember a few details, it had been dark, late at night she assumed. It was cold and snow was all around her. There was someone else at her side, a child, and they were running through the snow together. When Max had felt her self stumble and fall into icy cold water, that was when she'd awoken, terrified and shivering.
Hearing the sounds of banging pots and pans from outside the room, Max pulled the blanket aside and stepped onto the cold hardwood floors. The first thing Max did was walk around her room, studying each section of the room, everything from sitting in the comfortable chair that was in one corner to looking under the bed to see what she would find.
When she opened the closet and found her two bags sitting neatly inside, she pulled a sweater out of one of them and yanked it quickly over her head. Whether it was because of the pouring rain she observed from her window, or from the terrifying dream she had just had, Max was absolutely freezing.
After she felt she had satisfactorily searched the room, she stepped out into the hallway. Following the sounds of life, she found Logan in the kitchen. Standing silent in the doorway, she studied the room for a moment.
Logan stood at the counter, his back to the door where Max stood, steadily chopping something on a wooden cutting board. Max watched him, observing his quick efficient skill of dumping now sliced vegetables into a skillet and stirring in various spices with various ease.
Logan turned away from the counter, pulling open a cabinet behind him, and grabbing a canister of some sort out off of the shelf. That was when he saw Max lurking shyly in the doorway.
Never, not once, in his life, had he ever seen Max looking shy. Uncomfortable, maybe. Unsure, probably. Shy, never.
"Hey, have a nice nap?" Logan asked as he smiled, trying to welcome her into the room.
Max thought briefly of the haunting dream. "Yeah, it was okay." She continued standing in the doorway, watching Logan as he stirred the contents of the sizzling skillet once again.
"Are you hungry now, I am sure there is something around here you can snack on till I get the rest of dinner ready."
"Nah, I am fine. So you cook?" Max asked carefully, trying to start some conversation, any conversation to avoid the uncomfortable silence that would reign if they didn't.
"Yeah, that is what we'd do a lot of the time, I'd cook, you'd eat, you'd slaughter me at chess."
"I was good at chess?" Max asked, grabbing this little detail about her old life with two hands.
"Yeah, you were awesome at it. Only times I ever won was when you let me. If you want we can play a few games tonight."
"Ok." Max said, glancing over her shoulder. They both dropped into silence. After a moment, Max spoke. "Did I spend a lot of time here?"
"Sure, I guess you did." Logan said, carefully avoiding his fleeting thought of 'not nearly enough.'
"Well, as long as you don't mind, I am going to go look around, see if I can remember anything." Max said, desperate to flee the room.
"That is fine, make yourself at home." Logan replied softly, shaken by their blatant lack of conversation.
When Max backpedaled out of the room a moment later, Logan gave himself a second to lean his head against to cabinet in front of him, closing his eyes.
This was killing him, having Max back, but not really. In those three days that she had been in a coma, Logan spent hours thinking of all the things he never had a chance to say to her, things that they'd never been able to do together. He'd wanted her back so desperately.
In his months of paralysis, one of the things that had kept him going every day was the fact that he knew that if he didn't get out of bed, he'd miss the chance to see Max, to talk with her, to get his ass kicked at chess by her. It had been so great, for the first time in his life, having someone who was honest enough to speak her opinion, intelligent enough for her opinion to make sense, and money playing no part in that opinion. Having someone that he didn't have to hide from, not only hiding Eyes-Only, but hiding behind the thick walls he'd built around him self since he had divorced Valerie.
So now that he had her back from the brink of death, he was happy she was alive, but it was killing him not be able to talk with her like had used to. This uncomfortable, unrelenting silence was as heartbreaking as it was pathetic. There was no reason that Logan had treat Max any differently than he had before the accident.
Even as Logan thought this he knew he was lying to himself. There was every reason to treat her differently. She didn't remember her Manticore past, she didn't remember Eye's-Only, she didn't even know about the evenings they used to share together over a glass of wine and a plate of pasta.
Logan hoped it would eventually get better as Max began to regain her memories. Then he wondered if she never did regain her memories, how long would it take before she left him to move onto a new life?