y o u . o n l y . h i d e [v.heart attack]
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)
characters owned by cameron/eglee productions. song by fiona apple.
transcript found at DarkAngelTV.com
bet you thought I'd forgotten about this one, huh? you don't get rid of me that easily, grasshopper.

PART 4

//And I will pretend that I don't know of your sins
Until you are ready to confess, but all the time,
All the time, I'll know//

Max looked up from the book she was reading to stare forlornly out the window.

She hated rain, and, living in Seattle weather, the bitch just kept on coming down.

Diverting her eyes back to the book below her, one of the remaining few from Logan's library that she had yet to finish reading, she closed it disgruntledly, dropping it to the floor by the bed and rolling over so she was now lying on her back. What a way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Max chuckled as the sounds of Logan's soft singing in the shower made its way to her ears, past a tempest of raining water and the door seperating her room and the ensuite. Just one door between her and naked, wet Logan. A feline grin split over her lips involuntarily and her mind was starting to slide into a very sensual fantasy detailing the advantages of the slickness of said naked, wet Logan, when the phone rang.

"Max," Logan called out from beyond the room, "can you get that?"

"Hey, it's your phone, Logan," Max replied cheekily with images of him wrapped only in a towel coming out to answer the phone flitting across her mind, "you answer it."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm kinda busy at the moment," Logan returned sarcastically just as they both heard his answering machine message play.

"Oops, machine got it." Max grinned, already imagining Logan rolling his eyes in response.

Walking out of her room to snag an apple, Max walked by and heard the message being left on the machine.

"Hey Logan, it's Bennett. Just calling to say I'm getting married, buddy, and, uh, to ask if you'll be my best man. Y'know, it'll be fun, you get cake, you get to see my parents again, which, as I only know too well, is always a thrill, and if that wasn't incentive enough, Daphne will be there. Call me, OK? You got my number."

Max stopped mid-bite and scrunched her brow as the machine buzzed and whirred, saving the message.

Who the hell was Daphne?

Taking careful, measured steps back to her room, a confusing mass of emotions rose in Max, and, picking up her book from the floor, she chose not to analyse them and to distract herself by reading.

"Who was that, Max?" Logan asked, evidently out of the shower as he called from his room.

"What am I now, your secretary?" Max sniped, busying herself by quickly flicking through a few meaningless pages.

Completely dressed, Logan peeked through Max's door with a raised brow, wondering what he'd done wrong now. Max was furiously leafing through the book, oblivious to the words on the pages and, seemingly, to him.

Shrugging, Logan continued down the hall and Max looked up at his departure, her entire body tensing as she heard him replay the message on the machine, waiting for his reaction.

Would he tell her who Daphne was? Would he invite her to the wedding? Would the annoying questions ever stop breeding and multiplying in her head?

Max growled at herself for getting so keyed up. It was just a message, and he was just Logan, and Daphne was probably just some tall, gorgeous, curvaceous Miss Thang with feminine grace and feminine charms...

Right, that was it. Max crashed her way out of her room, grabbing her sunglasses from her stand on the way to the front door.

"Max?" Logan queried, sticking his head out the hallway and eliciting an under-the-breath curse from Max, "Where are you going?"

"For a ride on my baby," her voice clipped shortly, wanting to be out of the penthouse and away from Logan Cale as soon as super-humanly possible, "if I'm cooped up here one second longer, I think I might explode."

"But it's raining cats and dogs out there," he reminded gently, concern colouring his tone and marring his features as he wheeled in front of her. With the way he was looking at her, she could almost believe that he genuinely cared about her well-being, almost believe that he genuinely cared about her.

With a reluctant groan, she pulled herself away from the scene, speeding herself out the door and throwing a hasty "Don't wait up," over her shoulder.

Logan sat staring after her, scratching his head.

* * * * *

Max sunk into the blissful cacophony of noise that was Crash on a Saturday night.

'Absolutely no space to think here', she grinned.

Except that, you know, there was. Everywhere she went, her own little chaos was brewing beneath her skin, her own little crisis constantly circling around Logan, the wedding and Daphne, Daphne, Daphne.

Max had already given Daphne the perfect life, the perfect history, the perfect figure. Made her a socialite queen with men dangling off her little finger, dangling on her every word. She was Miss World, brains and beauty, grace and charm, with all the right things to say and all the right times to say them. Of course, she was perfect for Logan.

"And you tellin' me you still haven't straight up found her digs and just put the smack down on that bitch?" Original Cindy's trademark street slang broke into Max's thoughts but she was surprised to find her best friend addressing Kendra.

The blonde shrugged, continuing the conversation, "Guess that's just not my thing. Besides, the guy wasn't that good a lay."

"I can do it for you," Max joined in, "I did it for Sketchy a while back when this monster-bitch Lydia was..."

Max trailed off when she saw the looks that both Cindy and Kendra were giving her.

"What?"

Original Cindy snorted, "Just nice of you to join the land of the living, is all. You ain't been conversing all week, boo. What's it like in that pretty little head of yours anyway?"

"What?" Max defended herself, "I've been speaking..."

"Uh," Cindy half-laughed, "like monosyllabic grunts. You ain't been here since you started avoiding Logan on Sunday."

"Hey, what did he do, anyway?" Kendra edged closer to Max, giving her elbow a nudge, "It's like you're catatonic or something."

"I got it," Cindy filled in for Max, "you two finally banged the gong and he was so good, you been speechless all week."

Her two closest friends fell over themselves laughing and Max was just infuriated at how far from the truth that statement really was. "We don't have..."

Original Cindy sobered up quickly, "I hear you tell me you don't have that kind of relationship one more time and I will knock your head around until you get a clue."

"But-"

"Face it, Max," Kendra interrupted, "you're crazy about the guy. He's got you so strung out, you don't know which ways up or down. One second you're bluer than blue and the next you're so tense you're ready to kill someone."

"I am not tense!" Max barked out. Cindy and Kendra raised a collective brow.

"So here's how the story goes," O.C. told her, laying out the cards, "you and Logan been happy dancing 'round each other and your feelings so far, but now something's come up and it's making you face said feelings smack-bang, head-on."

"You're scared, Max," Kendra summed up, placing a reassuring hand over Max's, "'cos you don't know how much he means to you and how much you mean to him."

Max was stilled by how insightful their comments were despite the fact that she hadn't actually told them what the dealio was. She cringed, feeling herself caving, "Well, there is this girl..."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Cindy urged, both her and Kendra pulling their seats closer.

* * * * *

Max's distance was starting to take its toll on Logan.

At first, it just amused him, putting it down to Max simply being her usual hot-and-cold self, and that it would blow over within twenty-four hours. A day turned into two and he grew perplexed at the situation, genuinely confused as to exactly what he had done to offend her. Days turned into a full week and she was still speaking in clipped sentences, still doing everything within her power to ensure that their hours didn't coincide, and now Logan was downright depressed, having figured out for himself what the dealio was.

A little over a week ago, Max had fallen asleep in his arms, had let her guard down long enough for her to take actual comfort in him after a gruelling battle with the Red series. Now, it seemed, she was regretting her actions, and giving Logan all the space in the world so as not to give him the wrong idea, to make the message clear that that was definitely not what she wanted out of their relationship.

'Of course' an annoyingly insistent voice crept into his thoughts over and over again, 'she doesn't need you like that. You're only half a man. You're nothing more to her than a free meal and a cause. The side-kick never got the super-hero.'

Of course, of course, of course, but if it was so wrong for them to be together, why had it felt so right when he enveloped her in his embrace? Why had he felt such peace and such quiet confidence that with this woman in his arms, he could do anything?

'Don't get any big ideas' the voice warned, 'you know you're just setting yourself up for the fall.'

Logan gave a rueful breath of a laugh to the empty room and pinched the bridge of his nose before replacing his glasses and his command over the keyboard.

Best stick to what he knew, to hide behind the mask of a faceless, thankless crusader, to emulate the valiant voice that called from the shadows, but always behind the scenes, in the background.

Yet, Logan grimaced, picking up his calendar, he still had this damn wedding to go to.

One little indulgence in life couldn't hurt him too much, right?

"What's that big red circle around the fifteenth?" her voice crept up on him, her gaze peering over his shoulder.

He glanced up at Max and was surprised to find her eyes sparkling at him, "It's, uh, my cousin Bennett's wedding. He's asked me to be the best man."

'Now or never, Cale,' he thought to himself, gulping down a little something called pride, biting down on something akin to outright fear, 'now or never.'

"Think you could keep it free?"

She nodded thoughtfully, "It's within the realm of possibility."

Logan couldn't stop the grin from spilling over his face and a small, undampened part of his spirit felt like dancing.

"Great," he replied, his voice all casual and even, "you feel up to shopping tomorrow?"

* * * * *

"I see it went well with Logan." Original Cindy walked into the Jam Pony female staff toilet, flashing a knowing grin at Max, half-dressed in an amber red, lace-detailed ball gown.

"We bonded over shopping." Max returned sarcastically, stepping into an impossibly high pair of heels and proferring her back to Cindy to have her zip done up.

Max could hear the smirk in Original Cindy's tone, "And you say he ain't your sugar daddy."

Max was about to volley back a smart ass remark when she heard Logan's voice on the premises.

"How do I look?" Max asked, pulling at the tendrils of her dark curls that swung around her neck, covering her barcode.

Cindy smiled at the younger woman's apparent nerves, "What you so worried about, boo? You live with the boy, I'm sure he already seen you looking like something the cat coughed up..."

Max rolled her eyes, "Thanks, Cin."

Cindy sighed, taking Max by the shoulders and pushing her out the door, "Original Cindy's only speaking the truth. Point is, the boy's still hot for you, so this outfit is sure to please."

Before Max knew it, Cindy had shoved her out the door, so she decided to make the best of it, hips swaying seductively as the dress clung to each and every feminine curve, making an entrance Logan wouldn't forget.

His head turned on instinct and she felt his gaze burn every inch of her exposed skin, his smouldering look eliciting electricity to hum inside of her. Oh yeah, Logan Cale set her on fire.

"You clean up nice," his voice rumbled, resonating in her, right down to the bone.

"So do you." she approved, admiring how well he wore the tux, the refined elegance of the single-breasted black jacket off-setting his ocean of eyes and chiselled good looks. "Shall we?"

With a slight nod, Logan turned on his wheel, and together, they made their way out of Jam Pony side by side.

* * * * *

"So," Max started, fastening her seat belt, "got any warnings or pointers to tell me about this wedding? Anyone you should tell me about?"

Logan completely missed her surreptitious sub-question and chuckled easily, "My father's side of the family may be a bit... snooty, granted, but it's OK. I'll steer you 'round the curves."

Max scowled a little and pushed forward with her line of questioning, "So there's no-one who's shared a notable past with you? No one that deserves a special mention?"

"Oh," he said and Max prepared herself to be told about Daphne, "well, there is my Uncle Jonas and Aunt Margot, Bennett's parents, and, well, let's just say even my mother tried to avoid them and she was the most understanding woman I've known."

A momentary cloud traipsed over Logan's features and Max, taking note of this slight change, decided not to press any further.

"Hey," he broke the gentle silence that had been gathering in the small confines of the car, and reaching into his breast-pocket, "would you go over my speech with me?"

She accepted the cards from him and steadied herself against the motion of the car, "Sure. Shoot."

"Ok," Logan cleared his throat and she studied his nervous demeanour carefully. Strange that the man that delivered cable hacks to millions of people every week could be scared of a little public speaking. "'Marriage is an act of daring which requires that we be brave enough to promise ourselves forever..."

"Got that right," Max murmured, musing on her own cowardice when it came to commitment. Darren, Leo, and, God, most of all, Logan.

"Hmm?" he questioned glancing at her over the rim of his tiny little glasses that made her just want to...

Max blushed furiously and covered quickly, "Oh, uh, nothing. Go on."

"Right, 'It', uh, 'It requires we entrust our most secret inner selves to them.'" Logan continued, and Max found herself wondering if he had done so for Valerie, and then realised she really didn't want to be thinking about that. "'When Bennett first told me about Marian..."

"Marianne." Max corrected.

"What?"

"Marianne," she clarified, "you said 'Marian'."

"Which is it?"

Skimming over the cards again, Max told him, "It says Marianne. You don't know the bride's name?"

Logan grimaced as he admitted, "I never met her. God."

Max found this peculiar and yet so like the isolated introvert that she knew Logan to be now. "Remind me to take you to Crash to meet my peeps sometime."

Logan visibly paled, "Uh, in case you haven't noticed, Max, they're not exactly my crowd."

She shot him a look, "Well, in case you haven't noticed, Logan, tonight's crowd ain't exactly my peeps either. Way I see it, we'd be even."

Knowing she was right, but remembering his earlier resolution to gradually withdraw himself from her, lest he get too attached, he muttered "We'll see," and left it at that.

* * * * *

The wedding had been gorgeous and Max had even caught herself crying when the vows had been exchanged. Now, at the reception, she couldn't help but feel continually on edge, even when she and Logan had been encountered by his Uncle Jonas, when Logan had told him about his mother's locket now hanging from his Aunt Margot's neck and when she had left him in a huff about his inability to defend himself against his family, Max found herself incessantly on the lookout for any girl that remotely could have fit her description of Daphne. Unfortunately, every social butterfly that flitted through her vision in a beautiful ball gown seemed to fit it and Max was left in constant agony, mentally willing each and every one away from Logan.

When Max saw her, though, when she saw the instant way Logan's face lit up and the way her name "Daphne," seemed to roll off his tongue with a reverence that she had thought was reserved only for her, Max found it could only get worse.

Max walked casually up to them, evidently invading an animated conversation as Logan's laugh, a carefree, precious sound, made it's way to her ears. You didn't need to be a genetically-engineered chimera with super-hearing to tell that the laugh came from the heart.

"Max. Say hi to Daphne. My, uh, old friend. We went to Yale together."

Noticing the way he didn't look at her when addressing her, the way he couldn't take his eyes off Daphne, Max could master little more than pushing a small "Oh," past her lips.

"Hi," Daphne offered and Max thought she could feel sunshine radiating from the simple greeting.

"She's an amazing artist."

"Really..." Max tried hard to maintain a facade of detached interest, to not show how the pride shining through his words touched her.

"Mmmhmm," Logan replied, a slow grin spreading across his features.

"I've been meaning to tell you how lovely that dress looks on you."

Max wanted to tell Daphne how Logan had chosen it for her when they'd gone shopping together, how his jaw had touched the floor when he'd first seen her in it, but with the earnest sincerity written plainly on Daphne's face, Max found she couldn't bring herself to do it, "Thankyou."

Her pager decided at that moment to go off and Max gratefully took her leave of them, the beaming should-be couple, to answer the page.

* * * * *

Logan looked around the crowd that had gathered around him and gulped. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Marriage is an act of desperation... uh, daring. It's an act of daring... and uh, and it, it requires, really, that we be foolish enough to promise ourselves to another...brave. Brave, it's brave.

"When Bennett first told me that he, uh, had fallen in love with... uh... a beautiful... wonderful woman... uh..."

Floundering, Logan was infused with relief when he saw Max floating into the room, mouthing him the words, saving him, again.

"Marianne...I told him that...he was lucky...to have found someone to share his life with." Smiling, he saw only her as the words suddenly tumbled out of his mouth, the most natural he had ever spoken, "They crossed paths by fate but became partners by choice and together they are embarking on the greatest adventure two people can share."

As the applause faded and the crowd dispersed, he found himself faced by his saviour, cocky half-grin adorning her luscious, painted lips, and he felt his heart leap at the fact that she was here with him.

"Nice speech."

"Thanks for coming to the rescue."

Max shrugged, "Better late than never."

Logan found his interest piqued "Where were you anyway?"

She grimaced a little, remembering how he'd ignored her when she'd tried to tell him before, how immersed he was in his conversation with Daphne involving something about undressing her, and, well, that's all she cared to remember, really. "Long story."

Frowning at the darkening of her mood, Logan offered, "Anything I can help with?"

"I've got it covered," Max replied, but looking at her pager when it beeped at her, she found herself corrected, "apparently not."

Calling out after her retreating back, "Be careful out there," Logan couldn't help but feel he'd done something wrong. She was back to treating him with the same distance she had earlier that week, hiding something from him, and he had no idea what it was or how he'd be able to find out.

Sighing, he turned the direction of his uncle's call and decided to file it away in his brain and try to figure it out later.

* * * * *

With the intel she'd gained from Logan, Max set out to get the stupid painting that had been holding her up all night and get Normal's incompetent ass out of gangster hands. Having Original Cindy tag along, however, was not an option.

Sidling up to her best friend on the dance floor, Max nodded at her, "I got the 411 on the location of the painting and I'm all over it. You should... stay. Enjoy the party."

Original Cindy snorted and Max's heart skipped a beat, expecting a rejection of her suggestion, "No need to tell me twice, suga. Original Cindy never been known to say no to this much free food."

"Aiight," Max smiled, turning to leave, "I'll be back in a second."

Cindy grabbed at her arm, whispering secretively into her ear, "So which one is she anyway?"

Max feigned indifference and shrugged nonchalantly, "Over there. Tall, blonde, gorgeous. Draped all over Logan."

Original Cindy cast a glance over to where her boo's boy was parked, spotting the woman next to him who had lightly perched her delicate fingers over his arm as they shared a joke.

"That's Daphne, the girl that's had your head spinnin' all week?" she asked, sounding less than impressed, "Boo, she ain't Logan's type."

"She's not?" Max asked, somewhat sceptically.

Cindy grinned at her, "Not when I'll be done with her. Girl is way too fine to be playin' for the wrong team."

Max chuckled, shaking her head at her friend's intentions, "Thanks boo," and left the party.

* * * * *

Max strolled back into the party with a new surge of confidence. Biondello's career, along with Normal's ass, was saved, and somewhere in the corners, she could see Daphne and Original Cindy gently flirting with each other. She afforded herself a small smile as she moved into the spot next to Logan, almost lost in the crush of women hoping to get a chance at catching the bouquet.

"Mission accomplished," she softly told him, expecting a sign of approval in return.

"Where's the painting?" he asked instead.

Max, trying her best at patience, replied, "I gave it to DuVallier."

"You did what?" Logan bit back.

Max wasn't even trying to hear him, "What was I supposed to do? He was gonna kill Normal."

"Oh, that's fine. We can't just let this guy swing with an original Norman Rockwell. It's a piece of American culture."

Max's mood quickly turned sour as she asked with one hand on her hip, "Why does everything have to turn into a cause with you?", silently wondering if that's all she was to him. A means to an end.

"Look. I stood there and watched them ship the Baseball Hall of Fame from Cooperstown to Kyota. The Sultan of Brunei crated up the Statue of Liberty and took it home with him." Logan pushed on, trying to not let Max's obvious displeasure affect him. "One day this depression is gonna be over and when it is..."

In a sudden flash of motion, Max was gone and just as quickly returned to him, in the interval, the bouquet having been diverted from Daphne's obvious waiting hands to Original Cindy's.

"You were saying?" Max asked innocently, flicking her hair back over her shoulder.

Logan wondered at her motivation for such a move, but let it slide, continuing his tirade, "I was saying, one day this depression will be over and when it is it would be nice if there were something left."

Max sighed, giving up the information, knowing Logan wouldn't back down until she gave it to him, "Normal heard DuVallier talk about flipping it over to some dude in Singapore for a while. Supposed to leave tonight except the airport's closed."

"Just reopened." Logan sparked into action, hands already on his wheels, "The bride and groom called to check their flight. I need you to get out to the international terminal."

"I haven't even had my cake yet!" Max retorted, exasperated, already knowing there was no two ways out of this. Logan was already moving, "Where are you going?"

"I'll meet you there in half an hour. I gotta run an errand. Excuse me." And without further ado, he was gone.

* * * * *

The stint at the airport was pulled off without a hitch and now Max and Logan were back home, lounging on one of his plush sofas, each cradling a mug of coffee and admiring the Rockwell that lay unravelled on Logan's coffee table.

"While your uncle was getting sloshed you brought a killer to justice and saved an American art treasure. Maybe it's time you brought him up to speed that you're not the family failure."

Logan smiled gently at the undertone of pride that rode through her words, "I could be the messiah and walk on water and he would still say, 'Why can't you fly?' For whatever reason he needs to see me as a loser."

"Shame." Max replied softly, implying that she didn't think of him as one.

"Well, I'm lucky to have him. He's a good reminder of what I don't want to become. A lying, cheating, commercialist stuck in a loveless, dishonest marriage."

Logan watched as Max winced at the last description, sensing that somehow they cut deeper, applying to more than the man she'd just met. Logan bit his lip, deciding her happiness was worth a little more than his pride, "Max, I've been noticing in the past week that you've seemed a little... withdrawn. Distanced. And more than a little unhappy... And I can't help but feel that it's my fault. Did I... do something? Was it something I..."

"No, nothing like that," Max cut him off, sensing how much courage it took him to say those words.

"Then what is it?" he asked, messing up his hair with a frustrated hand.

"It's..." Max started, but chickened out, "nothing. Look it's over now, let's just forget about it, forget it ever..."

"No, Max," Logan turned to her, a sense of urgency rising in his voice, "if there's something that was upsetting you, I'd like to know..."

"Logan, just drop it..."

"Max..."

"Alright!" Max stopped him, raising her voice considerably, "It was Daphne, okay?"

"Daphne?" Logan asked, perplexed, "What about her?"

Max drew a sigh, knowing there was no backing out from here, and rooted her gaze firmly in the bottom of her cup, "I... I overheard the message Bennett left on your machine."

"What message?" Logan questioned, then realisation dawned on him, "Oh. That message."

"Right," Max continued, not looking up, "and, I guess it kinda bugged me when you didn't tell me right away what was going on with her... Not that you had any idea I'd heard the message. So anyway, we go to the party together, but it seems that everyone forgets that I'm there with you, you, Daphne, your Aunt..."

"My Aunt?" Logan bristled, his protective streak rising, "Did she say anything to you?"

"No," Max allowed herself a small smile, "she was just talking to one of the guests. Something about how Daphne looked like she was about ready to settle down and how you needed someone to look after you... And then that whole bouquet thing..."

"Wait," Logan interrupted, "so this whole big dealio has been based on things you've overheard? On conjecture?"

"I guess," she admitted somewhat sheepishly.

"Max," he took her cup away and covered her hands with his, imploring her to look at him, "why didn't you just ask?"

"Would you have?" her eyes snapped up at him, "if some ex of mine came round, chatted up a storm with me, and all my friends were saying how good me and him were together, would you feel any need to ask?"

"No," Logan growled, and Max felt a shock at how dark his usually bright blue eyes could turn.

Recovering from his reaction, Logan only tightened his grip on her hands, "I'm sorry, I guess I just didn't think... I didn't think that you cared to know. The thing with Daphne is... well, we were engaged for all of five minutes... and then she dumped me. Out of the blue. And I guess I didn't want you to know. The thing is she never gave me a reason. Maybe that's why I spent the whole night talking to her, to find out why."

Encouraged by the way her eyes softened and lost their slight edge of animosity from before, Logan continued, "And about what everyone else was saying, screw them. They don't know what's best for me." His voice dropped to tones barely above a whisper, "What I want. And besides, I already have someone to take care of me."

She smiled and he found himself wishing he had the luxury of losing himself in it, but things, as usual, were a little more complicated than that.

He straightened up, letting go of her hands, feeling his resolve slipping, "And you were absolutely right about Aunt Margot. I'm gonna get in her face about that locket. After all, it was my mom's..."

Reaching into her purse, Max produced a twirling, glimmering something that looked so much like... "How did you..."

"Genetically engineered pickpocket." she answered by way of explanation, settling his mother's locket in his palm.

"Thank you." He whispered, and by the way he was looking at her, looking straight through to her soul, she could tell he meant for more than the locket.

Squirming under his gaze, she got up from the couch, her dress sashaying with her every movement.

"Did I mention how beautiful you looked last night?" he asked suavely, night having turned to day as the sunlight caught and highlighted her smiling features.

"Not by word, no." She remarked, acknowledging his intense scrutiny over her body.

"Well, you did. In fact, you were the most beautiful woman there."

"I better get ready for work," Max made for her exit, "I don't think Normal would understand me turning up to work in a six thousand dollar ball gown, which, by the way, was a complete waste of money."

"No it wasn't," Logan insisted, his soft voice taking a turn for husky as his gaze lingered on her, "and I don't really think he'd be doing much complaining..."

Transfering himself to his wheelchair and then turning on his wheel to take his post at the kitchen, Logan banged his foot on one of the coffee table's legs.

"Ow."

Max re-entered the living room, "Everything OK, Logan?" and watched as he spun his chair around to purposefully hit his foot again, this time eliciting a louder gasp of pain.

Half-laughing, half in silent awe, Logan turned to Max, sensation still ringing in his leg.

END PART 4/?

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