That night, Max poked and picked at her food, hardly involving herself in the one-sided conversation
Logan tried time and time again to make two-sided.

She was thinking about him.

Logan could tell when he looked at her – she was thinking about Zack. Something was the matter, and
whenever something was the matter with Max, it was generally thoughts of Zack.

Logan knew it, he just didn't know what to do about it. He'd asked Max before if there was anything he
could do, but he knew that there wasn't. So he stopped asking.

And after dinner, he retreated to his computer, as he usually did, leaving Max to fall asleep in front of the tv
set, watching some old movie or another.

Hours into the night, he finally leaned back from his PC, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, and sighing.
He glanced at the doorway to the living room for a moment before making a decision, and turning off his
system, he rose to join Max on the couch.

Logan had made a lot of improvements to Phil's exoskeleton over the months since he'd received it. There
were hardly any more kinks in its performance, and Logan could wear it whenever he wanted, though he
usually went about his daily routine in the chair. He didn't want those acquaintances who knew him as
Logan Cale, mere cyberjournalist and rich kid, to wonder about his miraculous re-recovery. He also didn't
want his already atrophying muscles to grow too used to the support. He still had high hopes of one day
regaining the use of his legs.

He was wearing the exoskeleton tonight, however. And he walked over to the couch, sitting down on the
end next to where Max's head was lying on a pillow.

He stared down at her sleeping form, her lovely face, and the dark hair fanned out about her, and an
intimate softness stole into his features. He hated to see her so sad.

Max didn't even need to sleep, but she did so more and more often lately. And she looked less and less at
peace each time she did. She didn't need to sleep, but once she actually was sleeping, she slept like a real
bear, so Logan gave into the urge and reached over, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek, letting
his fingers linger over the soft skin there.

Logan sighed.

It wasn't that Max would object to the gesture if she were awake – they were comfortable around one
another now in a way Logan had never been with a woman who wasn't his lover. Not even with his wife.
He just didn't want Max to see the look on his face when he touched her.

The look that expressed his regret.

Sure, he'd come to terms with Max's decision to call things off between them. Actually, in the time since
then, he'd even come to agree with her. What they had together really wasn't what Max could have had
with Zack; it wasn't what Logan still hoped to one day have with someone else.

But he'd wanted so badly to have it with Max. He loved her, and she loved him – they were even
comfortable enough to say it to one another. Now, anyhow. Ironic. They worked well together, they were
best friends – hell, they even lived well together. It was perfect.

They should be able to love one another the way they wanted to. Why couldn't they love one another like
that? Why couldn't he love Max like that? Was their something wrong with him? He'd mentioned as
much to Max before, but she'd just laughed, not realizing he was serious. But he really thought something
must be wrong.

Had he somehow lost the capacity to love that way? Or had he never had it to begin with? He'd thought
he'd loved Valerie, but when the marriage had ended so had that delusion. He'd thought he'd loved Max –
and really, how could you not fall in love with Max? Maybe he really was like his Uncle Jonas, with all of
his affairs and conquests on the side. Maybe the capacity to love just didn't come with the whole socialist
elite environment into which Logan had been born.

But that couldn't be true, could it? After all, his parents had loved one another. Hadn't they?

Or maybe it was just his dedication to Eyes Only that kept him for feeling the way other people felt.
Maybe his dedication to the cause, his own little mission to save the world, took up so much of his passion,
that there wasn't any left for a woman in his life.

Then Logan had to smile. 'Yeah, right.'

He could be accused of a lot of things, but lacking passion was not one of them. He'd had a lot of
relationships in his time – many more than Max, which had actually made him feel a little badly when he'd
been pursuing Max as more than a friend. He was so much older than her, so much more experienced.
Jaded, really. What right did he have trying to corrupt her youth with his warped view of the world?

Only hers had seemed even more tainted.

Either way, whatever disillusionment they had or had not been suffering under during the time they'd had
together before the raid, a lack of passion was not one of them. They'd never actually consummated that
passion, but it had been there all the same.

Maybe that was why letting go of the dream that was a love affair with Max was so difficult.

They had passion, they had companionship, and they had love. Who's to say that wasn't enough? Who's
to say their brand of love was so lacking? What more could they hope for, really? They'd put their
relationship in the permanent friend category, but what if that had been a mistake? Logan was still young,
only 32, but he wasn't getting younger. And his line of work was not conducive to growing old.

What if Max had been his only hope for a future and he'd let that hope pass without a fight?

Logan thought all of this as he sat there by Max, caressing her cheek, and playing with her hair. But,
finally, he let his exhaustion replace the frustration his thoughts had roused. He scooted closer to her,
slouching where he sat, and setting his glasses aside on a table. In her sleep, Max instinctually moved
closer, letting her pillow fall to the floor, and cuddling up in his lap.

With his eyes closed, Logan smiled, resting his head against the cushions of the couch. He continued
stroking Max's hair as he began to doze off, his hand eventually beginning to still, with his fingers still
entwined in soft, ebony locks.

He had just barely begun to dream, when the sound of someone clearing his throat brought Logan awake.

Logan opened his eyes, only to see Max's brother, Krit, standing over him. A decidedly unpleasant scowl
upon his face.

"Sorry to drop in unannounced," he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. His dark eyes shifted to
where Max's head lay in Logan's lap and back again, narrowing just a bit in the process. "You shouldn't
leave the window open if you don't want visitors."

Then he stalked out of the room.

Logan just sighed.

The X5s did so have a one-track mind.



**** ****