Inside Out Chapter 2/?


Disclaimer: Fox, Cameron and Eglee made them. I just like to play with them.
Summary: A behind the scenes look at the episode "Out". This is part 2 of maybe 4 or 5.
Spoilers/Timeframe: "Out", obviously :)
Rating: PG
Feedback: Please! To jude_mustard@yahoo.com

Logan was exquisitely aware of the fact that Max had just come out of his shower wearing only a towel and smelling of his own scented soap. He forced his eyes to remain focussed on his computer screen, listening as she came into the living area and draped her wet clothes haphazardly over his furniture. She paced, slowly at first, then more vigorously.

Finally, she spoke. "You said there'd hardly be any security."

"My guy screwed up," he said.

"No kidding." She pulled her trousers off the back on the chair she'd flung them on, and wrung them out onto the polished hardwood floor.

He didn't let her see him wince as the water ran along the lines of the wood and pooled next to one wheel of his chair. "Did you see any refrigeration equipment?" he asked.

"No," she said firmly. He heard her stepping over to his Turkish rug, and knew what was coming next. He didn't even look as she wrung her jacket out there.

He bit his lip and pressed on. "Judging from the firepower we saw out there, Bronck's smuggling more than just medical supplies. The guy's got his fingers everywhere—gunrunning, racketeering, prostitution. Anything could have been on that plane."

"Great, I risk my life, and I don't even know what for."

"My intelligence wasn't accurate. It won't happen again."

"Damn straight it won't," she said as she dropped into the sofa. "'Cause I'm done."

"What do you mean, done?" Logan turned at last from the computer, and allowed himself to look at her. Her bare shoulders and arms were still glistening with beaded moisture; as he watched, one drop broke loose from a strand of hair that clung to her neck, to make its way down her throat and disappear between her breasts.

He swallowed hard. "This guy's up to something very bad, Max. I can feel it."

"Not my problem," she shrugged.

As she bent over to fasten her boots, the towel almost came undone, and Logan with it. He felt a warm flush come over his face and spread downwards was far as sensation went; surely the rest of him must be up to something; he glanced down to check, and noted with disappointment that everything was in status quo. His sympathetic nervous system was going wonky again, probably, he thought, and wondered if the reason he felt so lightheaded was because his blood pressure had fallen suddenly.

"That's a pretty selfish way of looking at things," he managed to say.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be obsessed with saving the freakin' world," Max said as she stood.

"I'm not obsessed!"

"It's all you think about. All you ever talk about."

"At least I care about other people."

"You care about strangers, anyway." She turned and began to walk to the door.

"What about our quid pro quo?" he called after her desperately. "You still want me to look into the other Manticore stuff for you?"

"Don't bother. Looking for those kids has gotten me nothing but trouble."

"You can't let go of Manticore any more than I can let go of Eyes Only. It's who we are."

"If you think you were put on this earth to be the world's most pissed off TV news reporter, and hide behind some red, white and blue Halloween mask, then I feel sorry for you." she said.

"If you think you were put on this earth to be the world's biggest cynic, and hide behind some tough ass attitude, then I feel sorry for you!"

"You know what, Logan?" she said, her voice dangerously soft. "How about a new quid pro quo? Don't call me. I won't call you."

He was still looking for something to say as the door slammed shut.

***

Once, in college, Logan and his friends had arrived at a certain consensus: if you were having an argument with a girl, you had to keep her talking. Once she walked out on you in anger, all was lost. There was nothing you could do to repair the damage after that—if you went after her, she'd get even angrier with you for not leaving her alone, and if you didn't go after her, you "didn't care about her" and were obviously "not interested in keeping her."

He sighed. Bling was right. Max was entirely female.

Not that he hadn't noticed, earlier.

He had to go after her, he told himself. Genetically enhanced or no, he couldn't let her walk home alone in the rain. But he'd already done four transfers into and out of the Aztec that day, and his shoulders were protesting so much that he knew he'd using the deep heat cream on them tonight. Besides, it would be faster if he sent someone else after her. Right, who're you kidding, you coward? You're just terrified of what she might do to you if she sees you again.

Well. He went to his phone and started calling, anyway.