TITLE: State of Mind

WRITTEN BY: Drea Jackman

EMAIL: DreaJackman@Literati.co.uk

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: When Logan & Max are drawing closer by the day, what could fate possibly throw
at them next?

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters involved. They belong to Cameron/Eglee
Producions :(

ARCHIVE: If I've said yes before I'll say it again, otherwise email me 'n' lemme know.

FEEDBACK: Don't make me beg, please? ...D'OH!

A/N: Ah, I see the cliffhanger-ish ending to the first chapter got a few peeps hooked. See
what you make of this then? Yay or neigh? Should I continue or let it rest? (Honest, if you really
hate it, I'll move onto another I'm sure you'll like. *evil grin at what's up sleeve*)

___________________________________________________________


There was blood, alot of it and it wasn't slowing it's flow anytime soon by the look of it. She
followed the trail up over what had been his pristine white shirt, buttoned down at the neck and
rolled up at the sleeves in a way that had made her eyes light up earlier, his chest visibly
heaving beneath the thin material. The blood was flowing from a cut across the right side of his
forehead, but from scanning it quickly she knew it wasn't serious. Dropping to her knees by his
side she tried to rouse him from the daze he was in. His eyes were unfocused and fluttered
closed each time he tried to open them. His breathing hitched rapidly in the back of his throat as
he gasped for breath.

"Logan," she tried again, but it was no use.

Logan's head moved slowly from side to side as if he was struggling to stay conscious and Max
tried to steady his movements. One hand slid through his hair to gently steady his head as the
other splayed out over his chest, her palm moving in slow, even circles to try and calm his
breathing. Her eyes flew around the scene to try and determine what had happened to him.

The wine bottle lay in shattered fragments and it's scarlet contents tainted an otherwise pristine
floor near Logan's left foot. It was then that she realized what must have happened as she finally
heard the audible choke of the servomotor. Logan's left let twitched irregularly, even in his
disoriented state. Another suit malfunction, but the details of what exactly had happened could
wait.

"Shh, it's okay," she turned her attention back to the man in her arms. "You fell down, but
everything's okay."

Logan's eyes made contact with hers briefly as he struggled once more to focus. He inhaled a
little more deeply, the shallow breathing beaten momentarily, but the fight wasn't his to win. With
that Logan's eyes rolled back into his head as his body slumped in her arms. Max gently held
him there a little longer before taking action to treat the head wound. The servo's spluttering was
beginning to wear her already thin patience down and she hated the way it made Logan's body
react. Reaching down to his right knee she deactivated the suit.

Before moving him she checked her surroundings one last time, her eyes cast upward to catch
the faint, bloody smear on the protruding corner of the work surface. From that she clearly
deduced that the suit's malfunction had caught Logan off guard and he'd come down hard over
the counter. She only realized when she looked back down at him lying there unconscious that
tears had welled up in her eyes.

Shrugging the tears away she sat Logan upright as she guided his heavy-hanging head to rest
on her shoulder. Her other arm reached down scooping up his motionless legs and once she
had him held securely, Max picked him up with great ease. The additional weight of the exosuit
made no difference to her ability to carry Logan's lean frame. Standing at around six foot two
Max had no doubt that any normal person may have struggled with the weight, but not her.

Eyes avoided all the symbols that had promised the perfect evening. The waiting chess board all
set up and prepared with wine at the ready, dinner laid out lavishly on the dining room table to
grow cold, candles burning their intimate glow down unnoticed. Max's eyes didn't stray from her
destination as they remained at blank front, her face expressionless.

As Max entered Logan's bedroom she found that it too was illuminated by candle light. There
were huge, old gothic style candles set up all around the head of the bed on both night stands
and along the long sweeping window ledges. Still, her mind didn't focus on the possible intent or
purpose they may have been intended to serve. Right now they provided her enough light to
tend Logan by. That was enough.

Laying him down gently on the bed Max straightened out Logan's legs before going to sit on the
edge of the bed by him. The cut across his forehead had finally begun to stop bleeding, the dried
blood marring his handsome features as it trailed down through his right eyebrow and over the
side of his face before disappearing into his disheveled hair. His expression was calm and
innocent as he lay before her. Despite that, Max was still sickeningly worried. The head wound
itself may have looked bad, even though it wasn't serious, but the full extent of the trauma was
still unknown.

Slowly she slid a hand over the left side of his forehead and down across his stubbled cheek. It
seemed so typical that something like this would happen. Now that she'd gradually been coming
to realize her own feelings towards Logan, she'd also become more keenly aware of how hard
he was on himself. Always pushing the boat out to please her when he should've known it wasn't
necessary. Always fighting so hard to get out of the chair, even when the world took his legs out
from under him in more ways that surpassed the literal sense. Trying to forget that he couldn't
walk to be with her and then something like tonight had gone and taken that away from him too.

Max sighed and bit down the growing hatred at what fate had let happen and let her thumb trace
his cheekbone briefly before going off into the bathroom to gather her needed supplies.

"C'mon," she grumbled as she tore through the cabinet under the sink. "I know Bling's got a
stash around here somewhere."

Finally finding the first aid kit stashed neatly at the back of the cupboard space Max grabbed the
dark green box and sat it up on the ledge by the sink. Grabbing two of the face towels and a
hand towel that lay nearby she threw one of the face cloths into the sink and turned on the tap
unleashing a full onslaught of cool water. Once the cloth was completely saturated she rang off
the worst of the excess water and grabbed the kit and other towels. When she returned to
Logan's bedside she found that he was still out cold.

Spreading the dry towel out beside him she opened the kit and began to remove the things she'd
need. Laying them out with military precision Max took the wet towel and ran some of the water
over his forehead. The liquid seeped across his already glowing skin and began to stain red as it
merged with the blood. Taking a swab from her layout Max gently cleaned him up, taking great
care not to be overly harsh in dealing with the gash across his right side.

As the final sweep was made and a clean dressing in place, Logan began to stir. Max shifted
over in bed to give him some more room. Watching intently as his eyelids fluttered open to
reveal his unfocused blue eyes still groggy from the fall, she slid a hand across to lay it on his
bare lower arm.

"Hey," she said softly.

Logan didn't answer, his gaze beginning to clear up as he focused on the ceiling above.

"Thought you were gonna be out all night."

"Max?" he replied, suddenly sounding as if everything was just clicking into place.

"Yeah," she answered squeezing her grip on his arm before sliding her hand down into his. "I'm
right here."

"What's happening?" his voice betrayed his confusion plainer than she'd ever heard present in
his words before.

"The suit, it gave out, you fell down," she explained bringing her hand up to his forehead. It felt a
little warmer than she was happy with. "Hit your head one hell of a blow on your way down too."

"Oh," he replied after a brief pause. He was still pretty out of it. The dull ache he'd come round
with was rapidly escalating to dizzying heights. Suddenly those dizzying heights began to spin
way too fast for him.

"Logan?" Max checked quickly as she noticed his face drain of all colour.

Logan began to push himself up in bed and sit up. Max reluctantly let him do so, but didn't move
any further away from him on the bed. Before she knew it he'd almost keeled over out of the bed
as he made to get up, his legs refusing to cooperate. Max's cat-like reflexes kicked in as her
other hand shot out to grab him.

"Hey! Careful," she warned pulling him back to rest against the pillows piled at his back.

His body flopped back against them, his eyes squeezed tightly closed as he tried to breath
evenly. Instead the air came in short, irregular gasps. "I feel," he broke off on another pant. "I'm
gonna,"

Max didn't waste any time in leaping off the bed. Within seconds she'd returned with a basin
from under the sink in the kitchen. Resting it in his lap as she landed on the bed beside him
again, she held it there while her other hand gently guided his head, supporting him as he
leaned forward. "Here, I got it."

As if on cue, Logan's body convulsed as he vomited into the basin. Max just held him steady. His
own body couldn't give him the support he needed, so Max was there, an untapped source of
strength he could draw on to get him through. As the vomiting subsided, the heat radiating from
Logan's body was uncomfortably hot, even to the touch. The flimsy shirt he'd worn was now
showing signs of his perspiration. Max kept up her soothing movements, her hand continuing to
draw sweeping circles across his back. It was only as she did so that she felt the trembling
increasing throughout his body.

Logan's body was slumped in her arms, his body too weak to hold out. He couldn't open his eyes
because everytime he did, the dull glow of the candles was enough to send more stabbing pain
through his head. Every breath only fanned the flames of nausea and weakness that gripped
him. His mind couldn't focus clearly on what was happening or how he'd ended up as he was.
The one thing he was keenly aware of was that even in the fear of disorientation and confusion
he wasn't alone. She was there, Max, his guardian angel.

"Feeling any better?" Max tested as she leaned Logan back into the soft pillows before moving
the basin aside. She'd deal with clean-ups later. Reaching out she tentatively laid a hand gently
on his forehead testing it again. Grabbing the waterlogged face cloth she quickly set about
stroking it down either cheek before down his neck. Logan only flinched at the contact,
attempting to move away from the source of his discomfort.

"You're burning up," she tried to explain, sounding more worried by the second, her voice
betraying everything her Manticore training had attempted to beat out of her. She was all too
aware that severe concussions usually came with a boatload of symptoms, nausea and
headaches a given in the situation. Max could only hope her mental tally wouldn't keep
increasing.

After a few minutes of trying to cool him off Max realized that it wasn't working. Logan's
breathing was still somewhat laboured, coming in short pants that the body used to try and
regulate with soothing beats. Beads of sweat had already begun to appear across his forehead
and the same tired glow radiated from his face. As another droplet of sweat made it's way
cascading down his cheek only to disappear into the stubble covering his jaw, Max lost what little
patience she'd had.

"Logan? Hey, c'mon look at me," she almost ordered trying to make him open his eyes and react
again.

"Mmph." The sound was barely an audible mumble as his head turned away from her,
completely unable to respond the way he'd like.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed leaping off the bed again.

Within seconds she was back with a bowl and glass of water. With all the fluids he was losing
she had to get some back into him fast. The towels she had, she'd soak and use to cool him
down some more. Setting the bowl and glass down on the nightstand beside her Max threw the
sodden towels on the bed, not really caring what she soaked in the process. Logan's
temperature was dangerously high and she had to get it down, that was her main objective.

Without uttering another word she set about the task at hand. His shirt was buttoned down at the
neck, the finishing touch to his look for the casual night he'd planned with Max before fate had
intervened. Max unbuttoned it all the way down hastily and slid her hands inside. The contours
and textures beneath her touch may have been pleasing at any other time, but as she slid her
hands over his chest and down his sides, pushing the sweat-soaked shirt back off his body she
took no pleasure in the act at all.

His skin was hot, unbearably so. If she hadn't known any better, she would have compared it to
her own heat phase, but that wasn't the issue right now. The sheen or perspiration glowed
across his exposed flesh and the light dusting of hair lay flat across his chest and down the
valley it traced downward to his stomach. Once again, what should've been a pleasant sight was
twisted into something of worry and fear.

Grabbing one of the towels Max trailed it across his heated skin slowly, clearing away all the
beads of sweat that lay in her path. Finally laying it over him, she took the other and spread it
over his upper chest, hoping that prolonged contact might bring his temperature down. Sliding a
hand up into his hair she pushed the disarray of fallen spikes back up off his forehead and
trailed her hand down his cheek gently. With a sigh she stood up and headed out towards
Logan's office space to call for some help.

It was only when she got there that she realized that there had been another brownout. Yet
another piece of good news to add to the nights collective and another that would surely help
matters no end. Clutching Logan's phone to her chest Max leaned back on the screens
separating the hall from the main room and sighed.

"What now?"