y o u . o n l y . h i d e [v.out, out]
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)
characters owned by cameron/eglee productions. song by massive attack.

PART 2

//I'll stand in front of you, take the force of the blow. Protection//

"You're moving in with him?" Kendra's grin split wide and knowing on her face.

Max shrugged as casually as she could, all too aware of the way Kendra's eyes were analysing her each and every move for any hint of emotion as she whisked around the apartment, throwing her things haphazardly into a knapsnack.

"His PT's outta town and somebody's gotta make sure he doesn't roll himself outta one of those high rise windows."

Kendra stopped and crossed her arms across her chest.

"What?" Max protested at being falsely accused, "We don't have that kind of relationship."

Kendra raised a brow.

"We don't!"

"Fine," Kendra conceded, walking over to Max, "but don't tell me that two people with the unresolved sexual tension that you have won't *somehow* end up in bed together."

"We don't have that kind of relationship." Max maintained wearily.

"Yet." Kendra smirked, "Have I taught you how to make pasta tricolore?"

* * * * *

Max stood at Logan's front door and swallowed again.

Just twenty-four hours ago, she'd been standing here, worried about him slamming it in her face and now she was moving in with him. She shook her head slightly at the irony and fumbled in her pocket for the keys.

Another strange point: she didn't have to break into his apartment anymore.

Slotting the key into place, she turned the handle and pushed the door open to find Logan waiting, grinning on the other side.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So you want me to show you how to get the door open? You seemed to take a while figuring it out," he teased, that boyish mischief lighting his eye.

"No, I think I got it licked," Max deadpanned. "Smartass."

They stared at each other playfully as was a customary end for their banter before both realised that now there really was no end, that Max didn't actually have to go home.

They simultaneously dropped the gaze to stare at the floor, Logan thankfully remembering his gentlemanly sensibilities and wheeling over to take her bags before the tension got impossibly thicker.

Leading her to the guest bedroom, he announced, "This is your room," before setting her bags on the bed. He motioned her over to another door within the room and opened it for her perusal, "and this is the ensuite."

Max walked into the small bathroom, running her fingers along gleaming enamel surfaces. "Nice. Where does this door lead?"

"Uh, that's my room," he informed her, scratching at his chin, "is that gonna be a problem?"

"Are you going to *make* it a problem?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

Logan laughed nervously as thoughts of walking in on her while she was in the shower flitted across his mind before he answered with a mock salute, "No, Ma'am."

The tension they'd shared at the front door passed over them again and Logan quickly back-tracked to leave her in the room, "I'll leave you to get settled. Dinner'll be ready at seven..."

"No," Max protested softly, "I'm the one that's supposed to be taking care of you, remember? And besides, after all the times you've cooked for me, I think it's time I returned the favour. So, you just go," she motioned him towards his computer room, "do your thing, and *I'll* have dinner ready by seven, OK?"

Logan's brow creased, "Max, are you sure-"

She simply pointed him away again, "Go!"

He chuckled soundlessly, tipping a sloppy excuse for a salute her way and followed her orders.

* * * * *

Two hours, three broken plates, twelve worried inquiries from Logan and many heated orders out of the kitchen from Max later, they were both seated at an immaculate table, complete with sparkling silverware, crystal clear wine glasses and two steaming plates of respectable-looking main courses.

"Bon appetite." Max invited, the foreign vowels rolling strangely over her tongue.

Logan smiled at her imitation of the phrasing he had used just two weeks ago at this same table and he scooped a hearty fork-full of the dish into his mouth.

"So?" she asked with an expectant grin on her face, "How's the pasta tricolore?"

"Good," he assured her before eagerly taking another mouthful.

She smiled, pleased with herself and she shovelled her own pasta-laden fork into her mouth, nearly choking as the taste hit her tongue and she forced herself to swallow it down her throat without spitting it out.

"How can you eat that?" she spluttered, watching him happily devour yet another bite of her creation.

"What do you mean?" he asked between mouthfuls, "It's delicious."

"It's burnt."

Logan shook his head and considered the pasta before him as if it were a piece of art, "Just finely seared. It adds to the texture."

Max balked at the sight of him swallowing more and more of the pasta as she in turn took swig after swig from her wine glass to wash the dirty aftertaste from her mouth.

"I think I used the sugar instead of the salt at one point." She confessed.

"And that's what gives it its unique flavour." Logan countered.

She smiled at his attempts to make her feel better, but pushed her dish away nonetheless, "Whatever you say, just don't eat it on my account 'cos I'm certainly not gonna."

They shared a smile before they both settled to eat in amicable silence, he her pasta tricolore and she the bread she had toasted along with it.

"So how was work today?" he asked, pushing the last of his pasta across the plate with his fork.

"Fine," she shrugged, shaking her head in rememberance of the days events, "Cindy could *not* get over the fact that I was moving in with you, Herbal kept saying it was 'all good' and Sketchy almost kissed me he was so happy with the news."

At Logan's raised brow, she rolled her eyes with a grin, "Don't ask. So how about you? How was your day at work?"

Logan tensed, pursing his lips almost imperceptibly as he averted his eyes from her gaze.

"Spill it," she ordered, onto him.

"What?" he surrendered, throwing his napkin onto the table, "Nothing to report; all quiet on the western front."

"Nuh-uh," she insisted, "you got that 'I'm-hiding-something-from-you-for-your-own-good' look on your face."

Logan shrugged, still not able to look her in the eye, "I don't know what to tell you."

"How about telling me how you got that shiner?" she suggested, indicating the bruise that was slowly fading from the flesh around his eye.

"I told you," he repeated in a careful, measured tone, "I wasn't careful."

She regarded him in scrutiny, looking for a crack in the armour he was putting up around himself and letting her mind tick over the past week.

"It was Bronck, wasn't it?" she concluded, "I caught your last broadcast...a whole week ago. You haven't stopped Eyes Only because of this guy, have you?"

"Max..." he started, the slight growl in his voice warning her that she was treading on touchy grounds.

"I'm gonna kill that guy!" she exclaimed, storming away from the table to get her jacket, ready and raring for battle.

"Max, no!" his order boomed throughout the room and she stopped dead in her tracks.

He sighed and pushed himself away from the dinner table, wheeling over to the lounge area where she followed, "This is exactly why I'm stopping all Eyes Only activity. I don't want to be putting you in any more danger than you're already in what with Manticore, with the seizures, hell, with just living in this city. Every time I send you out on a mission, I'm more and more worried that you won't be coming back to me, and not because I won't break the story or help the hapless public." His hand ran restlessly through his hair and his eyes finally pleaded with her, "I don't want to be the one that gets you killed, Max."

She furrowed her brow and sat down in the couch next to his chair, taking his hand in both of hers, "You think that this is just about you? That this is just your fight? You're wrong, Logan."

Max took a deep breath and thought of the best way to explain this to him, "All my life, I've been thinking I was a freak. A genetically mutated killing machine that had no part in this society. But then you came along and you...you gave me a purpose. You gave me a reason, a reason for being, a reason for having this revved-up, super-charged body...and I started to believe all your blah blah, woof woof about humanity...I started to believe in you." She drew her hand down the line of his jaw and made him look at her, "Don't take that away from me."

"I never knew..." he whispered, tracing his own fingers down the curve of her cheek. He felt *that* tension creeping up on them and grinned wide to break it off, "If we hurry, we can catch Bronck before he catches his flight to L.A."

"That's my boy." she smiled, grabbing the jacket beside her and leading their way out the apartment.

END PART 2/?

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