Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to claim that I own Dark Angel, I don't

Author's Note: I'd like to thank my wonderful beta readers, Heather and Meg, for their wonderful suggestions and insights.  You two are the BEST!

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Chapter 3 – Arrival

     Max and Logan arrived at the theatre at nine-thirty sharp.  From the way that both Logan and Davis had talked about the place, Max expected something akin to an upper-class theatre.  She wasn't disappointed.  The building was circular and looked to be at least two stories tall.  Inside, rich red carpet covered the floor of a large lobby, setting off the deep mahogany paneling along the walls.  Two grand staircases, leading to the second floor, were located just off the center of the lobby on either side of the main doors to the auditorium.  There were a total of three public entrances into the auditorium itself, and two side doors on either end of the lobby that were used solely by the cast and crew.  The main floor of the auditorium held just over two hundred seats and ended in a large orchestra pit at the front of the stage.  Above them, the balcony held another hundred seats.

     Logan smiled slightly as he watched Max take in their surroundings.  When she finally looked back at him, he smiled.  "Quite a place, isn't it?" he asked.

     Max nodded.  "Yeah.  Two emergency exits on either side of the theatre, leading, I assume, to the hallways used by the cast and crew, from the way that the lobby was laid out.  Backstage, there are two sets of stairs to the stage itself, and doors on both walls.  I'm guessing there will be at least two exits from the backstage area leading outside as well, right?"  Max looked over at Logan, who nodded.

     "Exits to the outside are right off of the wings.  Backstage, there are a total of five small dressing rooms with their own bathrooms, one community dressing room with two bathrooms, two offices, a kitchen with another exit to the outside, a conference room, a sewing room and an electrical room."  He looked at her and smiled.  "I think I'm starting to pick up some of your habits."

     Max grinned.  "Always know your exits.  It's a good code to live by."

     "Can't argue with that.  C'mon, let's find a seat."  Careful not to touch her and give the wrong impression to the curious glances that were directed their way, Logan lead her down the center aisle of the auditorium.  The air was filled with the smell of sawdust and paint.The sound of power tools and shouted conversations echoed in the empty hall, as the stage crew feverishly worked on the set.  A fainter scent of paper and coffee was also present, as was a musky smell of clothing that had been packed away too long.  Actors, singularly and in groups, were scattered throughout the auditorium, going over lines, sleeping or just  reminiscingabout past shows.  On one corner of the stage, Davis was immersed in a heated discussion with an older man.  He absently acknowledged their presence with a wave.  The other man, who had a petulant expression on his face that looked as if it were permanent, gave the barest of nods in their general direction, then turned his attention back to Davis.

     "That's Jerry Layten, the director," Logan whispered to Max as they made their way towards the large stage.  He guided her into a row of plush, red-velvet seats, far enough away that they could talk quietly without being overheard, but close enough that they would not appear to be standoffish.    Max was here as his assistant; she would lose all credibility as such if they were to fall back onto the more-than-familiar camaraderie they shared at home. 

Once they had seated themselves, Logan hung his cane over the back of the seat in front of them.  He inclined his head closer to Max and spoke softly.  "One of the things that I quickly found out is that Jerry has this very over-inflated opinion of himself as a director, just because some show he directed, pre-pulse, won an award or something."  Logan paused, resisting the temptation to nibble on her earlobe.  "Everyone else has a very under-inflated opinion of him."

     The feel of his lips so close to her ear sent tiny shivers down Max's spine.  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and absently wondered what his reaction would be if she were to return the favor.  She thought furiously for a moment, trying to come up with a subject to broach, then smiled to herself as one came to mind.  Slowly, she leaned in closer to him.  "Cale," she whispered, her lips a fraction of an inch away from his ear.

     Logan had turned his attention back to the discussion between Davis and Jerry, so he hadn't noticed Max shifting around.  When she spoke, the feel of her breath across his ear made his heart pound.  Slowly, Logan turned to face her.  She didn't move back, so Logan leaned forward until his forehead lightly touched hers.  Her lips were tantalizingly close; all he had to do would be to tilt his head slightly-

     "Would you like me to get you some coffee, Mr. Anson?" Max's voice broke into his daydream.  He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, as she grinned impishly at him.  His reactions delighted her to no end.

     Logan smiled back at her, trying very hard to calm his racing heart.  "Yes, Ms. Williams, I would like some coffee, thank you."

     "Coming right up."  Slowly, like the cat whose DNA she carried, Max rose from the chair.  Logan watched her appreciatively as she made her way to the aisle.  Only Max would be able to make sidestepping out of a row of chairs look sexy, Logan thought to himself.  He admired the way her red sweater hugged her sleek torso before disappearing into a pair of form-fitting black jeans and matching leather boots.  The outfit was a little tamer than Max's usual fare, but the sweater was cut low enough to tantalize him with thoughts of the dusky curves hidden beneath.  His gaze followed her every movement as she poured two cups of coffee and then made her way back to him.  As she handed him his cup and slid back down into her seat, the ongoing argument recaptured their attention.

     "No, Jerry, we cannot bring in any Canadian Mounties, or whatever the hell they are now, just to fill in as military stand-ins.  You have more than enough people in the cast to double-up on roles, which is what I told you to do from day one," Davis firmly stated.

     "But, I-"

     "No."  Davis held up a finger to forestall the man from opening his mouth again.  "I said 'No' and that's final.  Do we understand each other?"  Jerry frowned and nodded reluctantly.  "Good."  Davis checked his watch.  "It's almost time for our meeting with the rest of the staff, and I still have some final things I need to take care of.  If you'll excuse me?"  He didn't wait for Jerry's answer as he jumped off the stage and headed directly towards Logan and Max. 

With a heartfelt sigh, he threw himself into the seat in front of Logan.  He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and well-used hiking boots.  A pale blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows completed the ensemble.  On anyone else, the outfit would have looked rumpled; on Davis, it just looked comfortable.  "God help me if I ever have to work with him again," he said with a shake of his head.  "You wouldn't believe half of the stuff he just had to bring to my attention this morning.  Did you sleep well?" he suddenly asked Max.

     Only knowing him for a few hours, Max wasn't used to Davis' abrupt subject changes.  "Ahh, yes, thank you," she hesitantly replied.

     "Cale's snoring didn't keep you awake all night, did it?" Davis grinned at Logan.

     "No, he doesn't snore," Max automatically answered.  She felt blood rush into her face as she realized what her response had implied.  "Um.. I mean… No, I mean I don't mean…"  Helplessly, she looked over at Logan.  If she weren't so mortified, the stunned and incredulous look on his face would have made her laugh.  As it was, Davis was unsucessfully trying to contain his own amusement.  Max turned back to him, feeling the heat of embarrassment engulf her once more.  "I have really good hearing, and I didn't hear him, so, I mean, I can only assume that he doesn't snore," she tried to explain.

     "Uh-huh."

     Aware that anything else she may try to say would only deepen the hole she was already in, Max turned her attention to her coffee cup.

     "I'm sorry, Nicole, but the look on both of your faces was absolutely priceless.  Oh, God, I haven't laughed like that in ages."  He wiped his eyes and smiled at the both of them.  "Anyway, we have a meeting to go to now, and I want to introduce you to everyone.  Your only job around here will be to help Cale out with his job, which is to try to give the leads some final pointers regarding the motivation of their characters.  Although if they don't have it by now, they never will.  Hell Week starts tomorrow, dress rehearsal is on Friday, and opening night is on Saturday.  I'll hand out rehearsal schedules at the meeting, and then go over the ones that I'd like you two to attend later today.  Other than that, your time is your own."  With that, Davis got up and made his way out to the aisle, leaving the pair sitting in a now sparsely filled auditorium.

     Max shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering what Logan was thinking, when he chuckled.  She looked over at him, surprised.

     "You know, one of these days, we're going to look back on this and laugh," Logan looked at her and started to laugh quietly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.  "Of all the answers either one of us could have given Davis, I certainly didn't expect that from you."

     Max watched him for a moment, and then started to smile.  "I guess I really did put my foot in my mouth, didn't I?"

     "Ahh, you put both feet in and started to chew," Logan grinned at her.  "C'mon.  We're going to be late to our meeting."

*******

     "I want to introduce you to Cale's assistant, Ms. Nicole Williams," Davis announced to the small group that filled the meeting room. "Cale has told me that Nicole's father was in the military and that she attended military school with her brothers and sisters for a while, so she is a wealth of information about military procedures, just waiting to be tapped."

     Max turned to look at Logan, a bemused half-smile on her face at Davis' not-so-inaccurate description of her background.  Logan winked at her and smiled slightly. 

     "Nicole, seated to my left is Jerry Layten, our director."  Jerry peered myopically at Max and smiled absently.  He was not a tall man, slightly hunched from age.  He vainly fussed with what was left of his hair, trying to smooth the single white lock over his head to hide his bald pate.  "To Jerry's left is our stage manager, Debbie."  A blond woman, who looked to be in her early forties, smiled warmly at Max.  "On my right is Alan, who will be playing Michael."  A young man with light brown hair and green eyes nodded at her, a grin playing at his lips.  "And to Alan's right is Crystal, who will be playing Jessica."  Crystal nodded slowly at Max, her light blue eyes containing an unreadable expression.  "The only person we're missing is my assistant, Linda.  Linda can easily handle anything that I can't get to.  You'll meet her later.  And of course, you know Cale." Davis finished, his eyes twinkling.

     Logan glanced over at Max after the introductions had been made.  He knew that she wasn't comfortable with meeting a bunch of new people; mostly from the way she had warily regarded each one when they entered the conference room earlier.  And he hadn't missed the way that she had seated herself at the far end of the table, back to the wall, with a clear path to the room's only exit, either.  To all outward appearances, she was calm and collected.  To Logan, it was obvious that she didn't want to be in the meeting at all. 

     Carefully, so that only Max was privy to his actions, he grabbed a handful of rubber bands that were sitting on the shelf behind them.  Davis was explaining something about how the set was going to be changed, and was facing away from the small group sitting around the table.  Quickly, Logan shot a rubber band at his friend, striking him directly in the middle of his back.  It was so un-Logan-like that Max was hard pressed to keep a straight face when Davis looked around, trying to catch the culprit.  It had the desired effect, though.  Once Logan finally ran out of rubber bands, Max was not nearly as tense as she had been at the beginning of the meeting.  Sharing a conspiratorial grin, they both turned their attention back to the meeting that was going on around them.

     "Now, to wrap this up, I have the rehearsal schedules for Tech Week."  Davis said.  He handed a stack of papers to Debbie, who started to pass them around the table.  "As you can see, we are not, I repeat, not going to rehearse tonight."  He raised his hand to forestall the murmur of surprise that went around the table.  "This will be the calm before the storm, so I want everyone to have a good time on our last free Saturday night.  The company is footing the bill for dinner at one of the local restaurants and everyone is invited.  This doesn't mean that you're going to get out of rehearsal today, however.  We're going to continue with the usual schedule and bring in lunch, then work until four.  Understood?" He looked around the table for their nods of acquiescence.  "Good, let's get to work."

*******

     "No, no, no!  How many times do I have to say it?  You need to move down left on that line, crossing behind Jessica, so she can turn around and run into Michael," the director yelled.

     "Jerry, I have it written right here that you wanted me to cross up left, in front of Crystal," the actor shot back.

     "Where's my stage manager?  Debbie?!" Jerry turned around to glare at the handful of people that made up the audience.

     "Up left and in front, Jerry," Debbie's bored voice answered him.  "You changed it yesterday morning." Again, the word floated into the silence, although she didn't voice it aloud.

     "Fine, fine.  Up left, in front of Jessica.  From the top, Act 2, scene 1.  Again, please?"

     Davis rolled his eyes at the scene unfolding on the stage and turned in his seat to face to Logan and Max.  "That's the third time he's changed the blocking in as many days.  We're opening in a week, and he's still changing things around.  I'm going to have to have a talk with him, again.  Damn idiot.  An entire stage to work with and all he has the actors doing is moving from one side to the other.  No depth perception at all.  It's another damned 'Layten's Lineup' production in the making."

     They watched the scene run to its completion, then Davis shouted down at the stage.  "Jerry, go to the next scene and give me Alan and Crystal in the small room.  I'd like them to work with Cale and Nicole for a bit."  Davis chuckled when the third actor on the stage gave the two leads a black look as they made their escape into the audience.  Logan and Max followed Davis to a small conference room backstage.  Davis leaned casually against one wall as Logan and Max sat down next to each other at the little table.

     Alan was the first to arrive.  He nodded a greeting to everyone in the room, deftly spun one of the chairs around and straddled it, resting his arms on the back of the chair.  He was bouncy; that was the only adjective that came to Max's mind to describe him.  He was about the same height as Logan, good-looking, mid-twenties, with thick brown hair that fell over his forehead.  Unconsciously, he raked it back with one hand and smiled warmly at Max.  "Were you really in the military?" he asked.

     "It was more of a military school," she replied evenly.

     He grinned at her.  "Damn.  My father threatened to send me to a military school once.  I would have gone if I had known someone like you would've been there."

     Max smiled at the obvious flirtation, ignoring Logan's steady gaze and Davis' abrupt coughing fit.  "Trust me, it wasn't a picnic."

     Alan nodded.  "No doubt.  My dad was military.  Marines.  I'm kinda the black sheep of the family because I didn't follow in dear ol' dad's footsteps.  He'd probably laugh his ass off to see me in military digs for this show, even if it does mean that I'm finally gonna have to get my hair cut short."  He turned to look back at the stage through the half open door.  "Crystal, come on, we have work to do," he shouted.

     Crystal breezed into the room, slid into the seat next to Logan and smiled at all three men.  She was a petite, pale, strawberry blonde who looked to be in her early twenties.  Based on her first impression, Max had serious doubts about her ability to pull off a strict military persona.  Still, she'd give the girl the benefit of the doubt and wait until she had more information before she made any judgments.

     "Sorry 'bout that," Crystal drawled.  "I had to get my notebook so I could tap into this wealth of military information of yours," she looked at Max and smiled insincerely.  "I'm interested to get your impression of the military from being in a school as opposed to actually growing up in a military family."

     "You were raised in a military family?" Logan asked.

     Crystal smiled winningly at Logan.  "Yeah.  My father and grandfather both flew for the Air Force.  I've been all over the world, but I was raised mostly in England.  We were transferred to Georgia when I was about fourteen, and my family's been there ever since.  I was going to join the military for a while, and even was accepted for officer training in college when I decided that I would rather spend my life on the stage instead."

     "So, you were actually raised on military bases, because your father was in the military, but you've never been in the military yourself," Max clarified.

     Crystal looked at her coldly.  "Technically.  But my father was very involved in his work, so really the whole family was in the military.  I even dated a West Point Cadet for a while, so I think I have a good idea of how the military operates."

     Max blinked, wondering if Crystal actually believed all the crap she was spouting.  While she didn't disbelieve that Crystal was from a military family, she knew that in no way did the other woman have one-tenth of the knowledge of what military life was really like.  She glanced surreptitiously at Logan, wondering if he saw through Crystal's bluster as well.  From all outwards appearances, Logan's expression was one of calm acceptance and mild interest.  Max knew better.  It was his 'Eyes Only' face; the one he wore when he was doing his cable hacks.  The one he wore when he was hiding his true feelings from the person he was speaking with at the time.  Max smiled to herself, knowing that Logan hadn't been taken in by the woman's posturing.

     "I'm sure my extensive background and familiarity with the military is one of the reasons I was cast in this part," Crystal finished.

     "Of course it was," Logan said, smiling gently at the young woman.  Crystal's triumphant smile slowly faltered as Max smiled back at her; a smile that completely belied the message in her eyes.  Crystal jumped when Davis cleared his throat.

     "Well, I have to get a move on.  I'll catch up with you later, Cale, to see how things are going.  Give Linda a yell if you need anything."

     Logan nodded as Davis slipped out and closed the door.  "Well, let's get started, I guess.  Are there any questions you have about the play that I haven't been able to answer yet?"

     Alan nodded.  "Yeah, I know Michael is supposed to be really involved in his work and everything, and I'm sure, in the book, that it really came across, but with the play, I don't see the point between where he separates his work from his own morals and his love for Jessica."

     Logan's brow furrowed.  "There really isn't a separation.  Michael's work means everything to him and his work is a result of his morals.  He's trying to make the world a better place by using advanced DNA sequencing to help people.  The fact that Jessica and the others are a result of his research should fill him with a sense of pride and accomplishment.  At the same time, he should feel horrified that the only use the government has for his theories is to make human fighting machines.

     "So, he loves Jessica because she is his perfect woman, genetically speaking?"

     "Yes and no," Logan replied.  "What he loves about her, although he won't admit it to himself, is her wit and her intellect and …..  She is able to challenge the way he looks at life.  Genetically speaking, she is the perfect woman, and he wouldn't be a man if he didn't notice that as well, but it's her spirit that calls to him, not her genetic make up."

     "But isn't it obvious to everyone that they are in love?" Alan asked.

     "In that kind of atmosphere, there isn't any such thing as love," Max interjected.  "Michael's job is to do his research on the subjects supplied.  He isn't supposed to care that the subjects are human.  To everyone else, they're lab rats.  The soldiers are test subjects; they don't know what love is because they have never been exposed to it.  The other doctors don't care because all they are interested in is the fact that their research is state-of-the-art stuff.  Michael has forced himself to become so involved in his work that it has become his entire reason for living.  It's prevented him from seeing what is happening around him.  He doesn't want to see anything else," she continued.  "He's… he's obsessed with his work, sometimes to the point of excluding and pushing away those that could care for him.  He's put this… doctor-patient relationship that he has with Jessica as a barrier between them so as to keep her at a distance and not let his conscience start to question what he is actually doing.  He wants to keep things nice, safe, and sterile.  His first love is his work.  He doesn't believe that he has room for a second love."

     "But Jessica has her own problems," Logan threw in.  "Here she is, this genetically enhanced woman, who was raised as a soldier.  She was taught that love is a weakness.  She is deathly afraid of falling in love, and fights it by using sarcasm and bravado and even running away.  She keeps Michael at a distance, not because she isn't interested in him, but because she is afraid of loving him.  She is afraid of losing control of herself.  She doesn't realize that by loving someone, she becomes that much stronger, because his strengths balance out her weaknesses and visa versa."

     "So, they finally realize they love each other when Michael's orders come in to transfer him to another base?" Crystal finally chimed in.

     "Yeah, he leaves, then returns to break her and the others out when he hears that the project is to be terminated and her life is in danger.  He realizes that he doesn't want to live without her and that he is her only hope of surviving," Max said quietly.

     "Michael is afraid to tell Jessica that he loves her, because he's afraid that he can't meet her expectations and because he thinks that she may run away from him if he tells her," Logan said, watching Max from across the small table.

     "Jessica is afraid to tell Michael that she loves him, because she's scared of endangering him and because she thinks that she would take second place to his research," Max added, meeting Logan's gaze with her own.

     A thick silence descended over the room as Max and Logan stared into each other's eyes, neither one quite sure what had surreptitiously been admitted.

     Slightly confused at the conversation they were now having, Alan broke the silence. "Are we still taking about the play?"

     Crystal cleared her throat noisily, "This is ridiculous.  I am so out of here."  She started to stand up and gather her things when Max slammed her hands down on the table, making the two men jump in surprise, and leapt to her feet.

     "Sit down and shut up, soldier!" she yelled at Crystal.  Unconsciously, Logan sat a little straighter in his chair.  It couldn't recall a time that he ever seen Max fall into full Manticore-mode.  He was just glad that her  wrath wasn't  directed at him.

     "You are here for a reason, and that is to learn what we have to teach you," Max yelled at the hapless girl.  "Now, if you don't want me to kick your lily-white ass from here to Ontario, you will pay attention and you will learn something.  Is that understood?"  Crystal gaped at her, eyes wide in amazement.  Max leaned forward over the small table, invading her personal space.  Her eyes were cold and ruthless as she stared down the other girl.  "I asked you a question, soldier." Max's voice was low and deadly.  "Is. That. Understood."

     Crystal nodded frantically.  "Y-yes," she stammered.

     "Yes, what?" Max asked.  Crystal shook her head, shrinking back in her chair.  "The answer is 'Understood, ma'am'.  Think you can handle that, soldier?"

     "Y-yes.  Yes.  Understood, ma'am," Crystal managed to squeak out.

     "Good."  Max dropped back down into her seat, all traces of the hard-assed military commander wiped clean.  "That's what Jessica is.  It's not a job to her.  It's not about having other people salute to her or marching in a parade or living on a military base with her family.  It is her life.  She is military.  She was raised to be a soldier.  She has never known anything else.  She is a cold-hearted bitch whose only objective is to see the mission accomplished, whatever the mission may be.  No one can breach the walls she has built around herself and her heart."

     "Except Michael," Logan added.

     Max nodded and smiled slightly at him.  "Except Michael.  But only eventually.  He has to work for it.  Alan has it easy," she looked over at the young man, who grinned at her.  "Michael wasn't raised military, so he doesn't have the same mindset as Jessica."  She turned to look back at Crystal.  "Your job is going to be harder, because you need to get across to the audience that you are completely, one hundred percent military.  Jessica is the result of a military experiment.  They don't see her as a human being.  They have complete control over her entire life, and if they decide that she is more useful to them under an autopsy microscope, then…" Max shrugged her shoulders, leaving the rest of her sentence unsaid.

     "Well," Logan said into the silence.  "Any other questions?"

*******

     "So there we were, watching the St. Pat's parade go by and drinking our green beer, when these three girls stroll up to us," Davis paused and took a swig of his beer.  "One of them had a little puppy with her.  It was the cutest thing I've ever seen.  So tiny, you could hold it in the palm of your hand.  Well, Cale there immediately goes care-ful-ly down on one knee to pet the dog, which is not an easy thing to do when you're wearing a kilt, unless you don't care about flashing the world.  He's petting the dog and looking up at the girl and chatting with her; things like, 'What kind of dog is it?', 'How old is it?'; that kind of stuff.

     "Now, during this entire conversation, the little puppy has started to wander around and, sure enough, it wanders under Cale's kilt.  All that anyone can see of it is this little-bitty tail, just a-waggin' away.  And Gideon, being the concerned brother that he is, is sitting back and enjoying the show.  I, on the other hand, am trying to get Cale's attention to let him know what the hell is going on.  The conversation went like

     'Cale..'

     'Hang on.  How long have you had the dog?'

     'Cale..'

     'Just a minute. What breed is it?'

     "Well, pretty soon, a cold, wet puppy nose touched what cold, wet puppy noses should never touch," Davis grinned at the laughter that started around the table.  "Cale must have leapt at least five feet into the air, with a shout that managed to drown out at least two bagpipe bands and a fire truck."  Logan leaned back and buried his embarrassment in his beer.  "And," Davis paused dramatically, "All three girls plus half of the crowd found out the answer to what is actually worn beneath a kilt."

     The table exploded into laughter at the end of Davis' story, with several shouted requests from some of the more vocal women for a repeat performance at the local St. Pat's parade on the following Saturday.  Logan waved them off and sipped his beer.  "Thanks, Davis.  I thought that story was well and truly forgotten."

     "Are you kidding?  I tell it every chance I get," came the reply.

     "Oh, wonderful."  Logan turned to look at Max, who was still laughing at the story.  "Would you like another beer?" he asked, trying to change the subject.  At her nod, he made his way to the crowded bar.  While he was waiting for the bartender to return with his drinks, Crystal squeezed in next to him and smiled.

     "You know, puppy noses are really overrated," she looked at him seductively from beneath her lashes.

     Logan blinked at her, not quite sure that he heard her correctly.  "Excuse me?"

     Crystal pressed her body closer to him, one hand casually working its way up his hip.  "This is our last free night before Hell Week starts.  Maybe we could leave early and head back to my cabin for a drink or two in private.  You could help me with my …. lines," she purred at him.

     "Uhh, I'm … flattered, really, but I don't think that would be a good idea."  Logan jumped when he felt her squeeze his ass.  "Really, I'm going to have to decline."

     Crystal shrugged and backed away from him, "Your loss."  She watched him as he picked up his drinks and made his way back to the table.  Alan filled the empty spot at the bar and grinned at her, obviously having had watched the entire exchange.

     "I don't even know why you even try with him, Crystal.  Can't you see he's head over heels in love with Nicole?" he asked as he nodded to the bartender for another round.  "He hasn't shown any interest since the day he arrived, and now it's obvious why.  They try to hide it, but you'd have to be blind not to see that they're crazy about each other."

     Crystal looked at Alan and arched an eyebrow at him.  "Really.  If you believe that, then why do you keep staring at her when you think no one is looking?"

     "Can't blame a guy for appreciating the sights to be seen."  Alan grinned at her.  "The difference is, I'm not blatantly throwing myself at her.  Just face the facts, Crystal.  He's not interested."  He raised his beer in salute to her and turned to make his way back to the table and the ongoing party.

     Crystal's eyes narrowed as she watched him leave.  "We'll see," she muttered to herself.

*******

     A brisk knocking at their door brought a sleepy Logan out of a very pleasant dream.  He heard voices in the hallway speaking quietly. Max and Davis, he thought sleepily.  He had just started to fade back to sleep when he heard a soft tap as his door.

     "Logan?  Davis needs to talk to you," Max said softly.  "Are you awake?"

     Logan sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Max had asked for Logan, not Cale, which meant that Davis was alone.  "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there," he replied.  Quickly, he tossed on a robe and a pair of sweatpants, and then joined them in the living room.  Davis was standing there with a very concerned, almost stressed, look on his face.

     "What's wrong," Logan asked.

     Davis sighed.  "Alan.  He went and got himself a concussion and three bruised ribs last night.  Seems after he left the company party, he and some of the other guys in the cast found a country bar that had a mechanical bull, of all things.  The result is that Alan is in the hospital until Wednesday and on bed rest until Sunday, which means that we're without a lead to open on Saturday.  Jerry, in all his wisdom, didn't take the time to have anyone learn any stand-in roles."  Davis looked at Logan, his eyes unreadable.

     "So… why are you telling me this?" Logan asked, apprehensively.

     "Because I want you to fill in as Michael.  Just for Saturday night," he finished, cutting off Logan's immediate denial.  "You've been rehearsing with him all last week.  It's not like you don't know the play; hell, you wrote the original story."

     "Davis, I really don't do well at public speaking," Logan protested.

     "You keep saying that," Max muttered to herself, trying to hide her grin as Logan frowned at her.

     "It's not public speaking.  It's a play.  They are two different things", Davis said.  "The lights will be shining on you and you won't even be able to see the audience.  Please, Cale, I need you.  It's only for one night, I promise.  I'm going to put a stand-in on book right away, just in case Alan isn't up to doing Sunday, but I need you for opening."

     "Davis, I walk with a cane, for godssake.  You can't expect that people will believe I'm a military captain when they see me walk on stage with a cane," Logan objected.

     Davis shook his head.  "Naw, it'll be fine.  The audience will just believe that he was hurt at some point during his career.  It'll make the character more tragic.  Please, Logan, I wouldn't ask this of you if I wasn't desperate."

     The pleading look in Davis' eyes was more than Logan could take.  He glanced over at Max, who shrugged.  "I could help you learn your lines," she offered.  "I already know the entire play."

     Logan sighed, then looked back at Davis.  "All right, I'll do it.  Opening night only."

     Davis smiled in relief.  "Thanks.  I really owe you for this one.  We're going to start rehearsal at eleven this morning, so you have a few hours to look the script over.  I can't thank you enough.  I'll name my next kid after you, I promise."

     Logan laughed.  "Yeah, right.  I'll see you at eleven."  Davis grinned again and quickly left.  Logan turned to Max and shook his head.  "What have I gotten myself into now?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: Fwiw, the kilt/doggy story is a true one.  I have never laughed so hard in my life.