Author's Notes: Here's chapter two. Thanks to Lady Callie for betaing. As always, none of it's mine, all of it's Chick's and Jim's, please don't sue…

Summary/Spoilers: This is the chapter for "Bag Em"

Rating: R for language.
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"There was an old woman,
Who lived in a shoe;
She had so many children,
She didn't know what to do..."

I feel like the old woman who lived in a shoe. Only I'm just twenty years old. And I've seen three of my siblings die. I've killed two others. I've died and been resurrected. I've found the man I love, and yet I'm poison to him. And now I've taken the role of big brother and C.O. But this time, I'm not just in charge of the X-5s. I'm in charge of everyone. C.O. to the oldest ones. Big Sister to those a bit younger. Mother to the youngest ones. It's a bit ironic, given the fact that I've never even met my own mother.

"There was an old woman, who lived in a shoe..."

I wish I lived in a shoe. It's gotta be better than living under a microscope.

Or on the run.

Or in a wheelchair.

God. Logan. It makes me ache to be near him. And not like before when we dancing around what was between us. Now we know it, we acknowledge it, and want nothing more than to act upon it. But we can't. I can't go near him without being frightened more than I ever have been before that I'm going to forget myself and accidentally touch him. To have him die by my own hand, for whatever reason, is cause for the worst pain I could feel. Of course then, if he was gone, I might seriously consider killing myself—Renfro was right in calling me poison. But with him alive, and me literally poison, the pain is perhaps worse. Everything in Seattle reminds me of him. I'm glad I don't sleep much, because if I did I'm sure I would dream of him. Sometimes I think the smell of him is enough to drive me crazy with love and desire and grief. That's why I'm so cautious around him. I don't want to forget and reinfect him.

Or worse.

I'm trying not to think about what's going to happen the next time I go into heat. Luckily, I guess you could say, I had an estrus cycle the week before I broke out. Stupid Renfro bitch miscalculated when she sent Alec to breed with me. Had she been a week earlier, I might have jumped his bones.

Ew.

No, I wouldn't have. First, because he's my brother--never mind the fact that he's Ben's identical twin--and that'd just been whack. I'm not big on the incest. Second, and most importantly, because the entire time I was in Manticore, I dreamt of Logan; of touching him, tasting him, feeling him fill me, feed me.

I never thought a genetically revved up female could feel so much for one person, but I do. And that makes the fact that we can't be together so much worse. It's too hard to be around him. It's too soon. I was barely back in my crazy little life six hours before it got turned upside down.

"Somehow...some way...it's all gonna come correct. 'Cause you and Logan just got it like that. Nothing can keep you two apart. You're home, you're safe, you're strong. It's gonna be all right. It's all good."

I wish I had my boo's confidence in my situation with Logan. She's so sure that in the end it's gonna be all good between Logan and I. At this point, I don't see how it can be. And I don't know how to handle it.

I ran, I admit it. As much as I felt a sense of responsibility to Zack's memory and to all the transgenics I set free, I need to get away from what is or isn't going on between Logan and I. Zero, Fixit, Bullet, Ralph, Bugler--they were all my escape. Even Alec being more of a pain in the ass than usual was a welcome distraction.

What I wasn't expecting to come as a distraction was the news that I have no junk DNA. If that's the case then why the fuck do I get seizures? Was he trying to tell me that the seizures serve a purpose and are not genetic flaws? Or did he just mean to pretty much tell me that even though Manticore is gone, my ass is still going to be hunted because I'm the only X-5 they didn't completely fuck up?

Sigh.

I swear, all I want is my crazy little life back. I want to live in the world where I can hug Logan, hold his hand, and play chess with him. I want to live back in the world where Zack and Tinga are alive and I don't have this damned virus in me that denies me my right to be with the man that I want, that I *need* to be with.

Logan must be from Original Cindy's school of thought, because for as much as I'm pushing him away--and I know that I am--he still comes through for me, defying me, even though I'm trying to keep him away for his own good. All I had to do was call him and he somehow procured all the necessary papers to get the kids set up in their new lives.

I wonder if he knows how much I appreciate him being there while Bugler played a tribute to our fallen comrades, to my brothers and sisters. As I stood there I wondered if Charlie had been made aware. And little Case, who now has to grow up without his mother. All I wanted in that moment was to walk to Logan and let him take me in his arms, so I could bury my face into his chest or shoulder and weep. I need to weep so badly. To him, for him, with him. I need him. I wish we could have stood together in that moment, his arms around my waist, me resting against him.

But no. He stood by his car, the Aztek that looks like a station wagon with it's ass in the air, and I stood with the kids.

After they left, I realized I had to go back to the real world. I walked over to him and thanked him for coming through for them. He was, per usual, gracious, humble, and more worried about me. I could feel the irresistible urge to reach out to him, to let him take my hand in his, so I put mine behind my back. He saw what I did and I could see the pain flash across his beautiful eyes.

"You did a good thing, Max. Not just for them, but for all of 'em." He could see his words alone were not bringing me comfort, but for as much as we may have wished he could to more to comfort me, words were all he had. "They'll figure it out," he promised, his voice hushed and rough.

He asked me then if I was heading back to town and I shook my head. I needed to take a ride on my baby to clear my head. We said our goodbyes and I sped off, feeling his eyes bore into the back of me as I rode away from him. I drove for a long time, not knowing where I was going, only knowing that looking at Logan made me want to take my own advice and stay together. But how can we do that when his life depends on us staying apart? The questions burned in my head as I drove. Before I knew it I was back in Seattle and I wondered how I had gotten there. My mind had been elsewhere, but something had taken me back to the city.

I looked up and realized where I was and what had brought me back. It was the same thing that would always bring me back. I was at Fogle Towers. I was at Logan's. I parked my bike on the side of the building and climbed the fire escape of another building, the same one I had made a delivery too so many months ago, when I first spied Logan's Bast statue. I stood on the rooftop of the other building, knowing my usual thinking spot, the space needle, stood behind me across the city like a beacon. But Logan was a stronger beacon.

As I watched he stood at his window, staring out at the city. I remember how many nights we spent doing the same thing, or playing chess by that window. I wonder how many nights he spent doing that when he thought me dead? I wonder how many more nights he will do that without me? After a time, he went into his room and took off the exoskeleton. I guess now that he has the choice, sometimes he enjoys the luxury of numbness. Of not being able to feel.

So much has changed. Six months ago it was the numbness that was killing him. Now it's feeling that's killing us both.

I watched as he worked on some Eyes Only stuff. He picked up the phone a few times, and then set it down before dialing. I wondered what he was doing. Then, as I watched, he picked up the phone again and dialed a number. Within seconds my pager was exploding. The noise brought a pang to my heart and I reached down and switched it off. He hung his head when I didn't call him back and I wanted to weep. Then, he picked up the phone and dialed another number. I watched him talk to someone on the phone—Asha? Sebastian? Another informant?

I found out later, when I got back to the crib, that he had called Cindy, looking for me, making sure I had got home safe.

God I love him.

I watched him hang up the phone again then sigh resignedly as he shut off his desk lamp and rolled into this bedroom. Before my eyes he stripped down to his boxers, reminding me of the first time I saw him in his skivvies—he was buffer now, harder, more muscular. But I wished he was wearing the black silk ones like he was the first time I saw him stripped down. He read for a while, then shut the book and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache. Then he reached out and turned off his bedside lamp.

Sighing, I headed home.

When Cindy told me he had called, I couldn't resist picking up the phone, even though I knew he was asleep. It rang several times and I began to regret calling him, waking him. But then I heard his voice mumble, "Speak," and I pictured him, all disheveled and sleepy looking and my heart melted.

"Hey yourself," I said, quoting him from all those months ago.

"Max," he said, instantly more awake. I could hear him sitting up in bed.

"My name is, yes, Max; thanks for remembering," I jested, tucking a leg underneath me as I sat on our couch.

He laughed, the sound breathy and strong, and it made me smile. "Me hitting you back," I told him.

"I thought so," he replied. "I wanted to see if you got home okay."

"Thanks," I said, hoping I was conveying the sincerity of my gratitude in my voice.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice soft and full of caring. I began to wish I was in bed with him, resting my head on his bare chest as we had this conversation.

I sighed, "I'm all good, all things considering, I guess. I'm not in a cage, no more of the Manticore kids will be executed..." I trailed off.

"But?" he pried gently.

"But there's still this goddamned virus that's keeping me from being with you!" I exclaimed unexpectedly. I instantly regretted saying it. I hadn't planned on saying it. I knew we both felt bad, and I didn't need to bring it up.

I heard him draw in a breath. "Max," Logan said gently. "We're going to beat this. We're going to find a way to be together the way we want to be."

He sounded so sure, so confident. "I hope so Logan," I replied in a small voice.

"But Max," he said, his voice hesitantly firmer. "Until we do, please don't push me away. Please. Even if I can't touch you, I don't not want to be with you. I'll take what I can get until I can get what I want."

'And what *do* you want?' I wanted to ask. Instead, I said, "I don't want to hurt you."

I heard him chuckle, "We'll be careful, Max. I promise." He paused. "Will you come over for dinner Monday night? I bet you haven't had anything decent to eat lately."

I chuckled, "The last good thing I ate was the food I nabbed at your place before I went into heat. Before..." I left it unsaid. Before Rafer. Before Tinga. Before Zack. Before everything.

He tried to put a good spin on it for me, "Well, in that case, I'll make you a huge gourmet dinner."

"Thanks," I replied. Then I felt the ache in my heart start to grow. "Go back to sleep, Chef Cale. I just wanted to call you back."

"Thank you Max," he answered as I heard him lay back down. I tried not to imagine the feel of his arms around me, my body pressed to his, in his bed, or mine.

"Goodnight," I murmured.

"Goodnight angel," he whispered before hanging up.

"I love you," I said, to the dial tone.

I put the phone back in the receiver and called to Cindy that I was going out again. I hopped back on my baby and sped off towards the Needle.

Who knows... maybe Logan and I can beat this thing. I guess we'll just have to see where this road takes us.