EPISODE SEVEN – CHAPTER SIX
Disclaimer: See Episode 7, Chapter 5.
Spoilers: Season 2, Medium Is The Message.
Rating: PG-13.
A/N: Hi, everyone. Sorry it took me so long again, but at least it's pretty long. It may be a bit rambling, and possibly fragmented, since I wrote it in stops and starts. No present-opening this chapter – probably next chapter, finally. I just wanted to make sure I did justice to Christmas Eve before I moved on to Christmas Day.
I still haven't done anything with the NC-17 IAFYDS and S2S here on ff.net. Been so incredibly busy on VS3 and real life it just hasn't happened. You might want to d/l the fics just in case they disappear on the 12th. I will probably re-upload them, but don't know at this point. You can get them on my website too, but without the A/N, which quite possibly you don't care anything about. =) Oh, and Denise came through and put a review function on my site: www.willowsdarkangelfic.freeservers.com. Try it out! =)
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Logan wheeled back into the kitchen to find Tricia leaning up against the kitchen counter, her glass of egg nog held loosely in one hand. "Everything all right?" she asked carefully.
He stopped, then smiled and continued over to the dining room table, where his egg nog was waiting. He picked up the glass and took a drink. "Everything's fine. Max just...wasn't feeling well. She went to lie down."
Tricia followed him over and perched on a chair. "Logan, I...I went to the bathroom to check up on you. And I...I saw the bottle on the counter. The tryptophan."
He looked up and met her knowing gaze. Sighing, he lifted his eyebrows quickly and gave a little rueful laugh. "Yeah. She didn't want you to know."
Tricia flashed him a small, wistful smile. "I wondered. I mean, I wondered if she would have them. Like the others. I wish...I wish she could trust me with it."
Logan set the glass down on the table with a dull thunk. "It's not that she doesn't trust you. Max just isn't big on revealing flaws. She's had to conceal them for so long, to act tough even when she's not."
Tricia nodded slowly. "Can I...should I take her some milk?"
Logan looked up again and smiled. "I tried to convince her the egg nog would help. But I think milk would probably be a good idea. While you're doing that, I'm going to go out. I'll be back in a few minutes."
After Tricia got up and started pouring the milk, Logan left the table and went into the computer room, where Joshua's nose was still glued to the small television screen on the shelf next to the computer desk. His large frame was sprawled in Logan's computer chair. "Television is funny," Joshua said to Logan over his shoulder. "How does it work?"
Logan wrestled with that for a few minutes. "It's pretty complicated. I'll see if I can't find an explanation for you, though." He smiled as Joshua turned back to the screen, as if he was nervous about missing even a few seconds of what was flashing onscreen. "You doing okay, big fella?" Logan asked his turned back.
Joshua turned back reluctantly. "Doing okay," he replied. "Thank you for bringing me here. But...I don't have Christmas presents for you or Max," he said sadly. "Can't go to the market with Max, and Alec takes all Joshua's paintings."
Logan laughed. "That's okay. Presents aren't all they're cracked up to be. Besides, your present is you."
"Joshua's a present?" His tone of voice implied that he thought Logan had no clue what he was talking about.
"Yeah. You're here, and that's what's important to Max. And to me."
Joshua thought about that for a second, then sniffed and smiled. "Okay. Joshua's Max and Logan's present."
"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" Logan asked.
Joshua turned back towards the television screen and nodded absently. Logan sighed and shook his head, then headed out to the front door, where he put on a pair of tennis shoes to look a little more presentable. The elevator was slow in coming, but finally it arrived and Logan got right up next to the lighted button panel and pushed up on one wheel so he could just reach the button for the penthouse above his. When the door opened, he wheeled out into the corridor and to Mrs. Moreno's front door, where he politely rang the bell.
The door opened a crack, and Mrs. Moreno's kind, lined face stared out at Logan. When she focused in on him and recognition flashed in her eyes, she smiled and opened the door wider. "Logan, Merry Christmas," she said in a slightly shaky voice. She was wrapped in a thick, dark blue terrycloth robe and looked ready for bed.
"Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Moreno," Logan began, "but I just brought home a Christmas tree and I don't seem to have a stand for it. I don't suppose...?" He knew from his visit earlier in the week that she had chosen not to get a tree that year – too much trouble just for her, she'd said. And he also knew that she loved to be of assistance in whatever little way she could – partly to repay him for helping her when she'd fallen, and for his faithful visits to check on her.
"Of course. You can have mine. If I can find it; I'm afraid I've become a bit of a pack rat," she said with a bashful laugh.
"Aren't we all?" Logan said lightly.
She stepped back and let him come in, then she shut the door. "Stay right here, and I'll go find it."
Five long minutes later, the elderly woman came back down the hallway with a small metal tree stand, painted a gaudy red and rusting at the joints. "I'm sorry it took me so long. It was at the back of my closet."
"Next time you should let me look for it. I didn't want you to go to any trouble," Logan protested gently.
"It's no trouble, and besides, that closet is an awful mess," Mrs. Moreno insisted. "At least someone will get some use out of it. And while you're at it..." She handed him the stand, which he situated on his lap and looked up at her questioningly. "I have a few more things you can take. Stay right there," she instructed again, then turned and hurried back down the hall before he could stop her.
Another five long minutes later, she appeared again, this time carrying a rather large cardboard box. Logan saw her and started wheeling towards her. "Now, you definitely should have let me get that," he chided her.
"Oh, stop fussing," she teased him. He picked the tree stand up off his lap and together they set the box down on his lap. All kinds of Christmas trimmings bulged from the open box, and Logan carefully set the stand down on top of the box. His chin almost touched the top of the stand, and they both laughed as he jokingly craned his neck over the top.
"This is great, Mrs. Moreno. Thanks a lot. Why don't you come downstairs with me and have some egg nog?" he asked.
"Oh, no, I'm not dressed for it. It's too late for me, besides. You just go and have fun now," she said, smiling down at him.
"Thanks again," he said, backing up and turning around. She walked him to the door and held it open for him. "Merry Christmas," he told her as he wheeled carefully to the elevator.
"Merry Christmas, Logan. And please tell Max I said hello." Logan had taken to telling Mrs. Moreno about Max and their relationship – minus the more fantastic elements of the story. He loved talking about her, and Mrs. Moreno loved hearing about their romance, so it was a perfect fit. The elevator was waiting for him, so he went in and used one arm of the tree stand to tap the button for his apartment.
The first sound he heard when he entered the apartment again was the television blaring from the computer room, then suddenly it was quiet again. Joshua must be experimenting with the volume control, Logan thought, and laughed to himself. Then he realized he could hear laughter coming from somewhere. Female laughter. He awkwardly set the large box on the ground – more like dropped it, actually, as he tried to prevent it from landing on his feet and toppling over. Then he slowly wheeled down the hallway towards the laughter and stopped in the open doorway to his bedroom.
Tricia was sitting on the edge of his bed, and Max was propped against the headboard, a glass of milk in her hand. Her hair was tangled and her face pale, and her shoulders still trembled occasionally. But the largest shudders were gone, and the two women were laughing, until Logan cleared his throat and they looked over at him. "Hey, guys," he said with a half-smile, coming into the room and wheeling over to them. "What'd I miss?"
They looked at each other again and burst out laughing. Max's laugh ended with a small seizure, but she didn't seem too discomfited in front of Tricia, for which Logan was glad. "Just recapping some of Sketchy's more amazing claims to idiot infamy," Max informed him.
"Ahh...well, if you're feeling that much better, Mrs. Moreno just loaned me about 30 pounds worth of Christmas decorations, and every single one of them wants to fulfill their Christmas decorating destiny. Interested?" He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, and happened to notice the sneakers still on his feet, so he reached down and started untying them.
"That sounds like fun," Tricia exclaimed. Max's expression was decidedly less enthusiastic, and Logan remembered her comment from the previous day about not having gotten to stay at home and thread popcorn on a string. It was clear to Logan that she associated decorations with snobbery and high class. Well, he would just have to change that.
"C'mon," he said, looking at her. "Joshua'd be on cloud nine if you threw some tinsel around his neck and put a star on his head."
That mental image coaxed a reluctant smile from her full lips, and she finally relented. "Okay...but no egg nog."
"Agreed."
Tricia stood up to let Max throw back the covers and start to climb out of bed. She put both bare feet on the ground, then just sat for a moment on the edge of the mattress as the two watched her. Finally, Logan said, "You sure you're okay? You know, we can handle the decorating if you just wanna stay in bed."
Max looked up with a determined, and slightly irritable, look. "I'm not a china doll, Logan. Not gonna break. Just give me a minute, 'k?"
Busying himself, Logan reached down and slipped off one untied sneaker, then the other, and tossed them over beside the nightstand. Finally, Max stood up shakily, and waved off Tricia as she approached with an arm outstretched, offering support. "Let's do this," she declared.
The three of them went back into the main part of the apartment, and Logan pointed out the box of Christmas decorations. He bent down to pick it up, but it was too heavy for him at the awkward angle, and Tricia came over to help. "I can get it," she said.
"No, it's okay. Just put it on my lap," Logan insisted. "You know, I should probably put the exoskeleton back on." He sighed, not really wanting to do that now that he was comfortable. "I'm not going to be much use hanging stuff."
"Joshua can hang stuff." They all looked up to see Joshua poking his head out of the computer room. He ducked back inside to the check the television screen, then turned back to them. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the box on Logan's lap.
"Christmas decorations," Logan answered. "And you can be our official decoration hanger, Joshua, if that's okay with you."
"Okay with Joshua." Reluctantly, he turned the remote control toward the television set and turned it off, then came out and took the box from Logan, looking around.
"Why don't you put it on the sofa, big fella?" Max suggested, and they went into the living room.
"Why are we putting up decorations?" Joshua asked, starting to pull things from the box, and staring at each thing as if it were from a different planet.
"It's tradition," Tricia said, walking over and smiling up at him. She took the strand of tinsel he was holding and looked at it for a minute, then glanced up at her friends, still smiling, but with a trace of sadness this time. "Do you know why we celebrate Christmas, Joshua?" she asked him.
He nodded eagerly. "I read A Christ-mas Carol," he said slowly and deliberately. "Charles Dickens wrote it. One of Father's books," he added proudly.
"Ahh, I see," Tricia said. "Well, then, this is how we celebrate Christmas now. Put up a Christmas tree, decorate it, and then put up whatever other decorations you want. My family used to make wreaths out of holly and pine branches, and put them on every door."
"My mother always bought these really ugly wreaths with lots of fancy ribbons," Logan added, and Max and Tricia laughed.
"Cratchit didn't have any wreaths," Joshua said, having trouble pronouncing the strange words. "They had a turkey dinner – yum," he added, smiling.
Logan wheeled over and started rummaging through the box, pulling out a bag of tree ornaments, a star for the top of the tree, a couple of wide red ribbons tied into gaudy bows, and several strands of Christmas lights. He smiled up at Joshua. "That's one tradition that's still around," he said. "Turkey is on the menu for tomorrow."
"Like Thanksgiving," Joshua pointed out.
"Yeah. Two days out of the year, we eat a whole turkey. That's America for you."
"A Christmas Carol is in England," Joshua said. "That's England for you. Not America."
Logan laughed at Joshua's imitation. "Right, well, we get lots of our traditions from England," he replied. As he handed the bows to Joshua and explained what to do with them, Logan realized Max had gotten quiet, and he looked over at her. She'd sunk down in one of the living room chairs opposite where Logan and Joshua were huddled near the sofa. Logan could see her trembling slightly every few seconds, and he smiled sympathetically.
Joshua turned around and followed Logan's gaze. "Max...Max is having seizures?" he said worriedly, as he looked intently at her.
"Yeah, I'm not feeling so hot," she replied. She shook her head and gave him a crooked smile. "Hey, nobody's perfect."
Tricia had picked up the Christmas stand and taken it to the corner of the room near the window, where she set it down and plopped down Indian-style to work on the rusty bolts, trying to loosen the pins that would hold the tree in place. When she heard the exchange between Max and Joshua, she left the task and went over to Max, putting a hesitant hand on top of her daughter's head. "Do you...do you have seizures, Joshua?" Tricia asked gently.
"No," he answered shortly, and turned his back to her, suddenly interested again in the contents of the box. Logan gave the women a curious glance and shrugged a little. Max turned her head up and shrugged at Tricia, who quickly removed her hand, shot Max a puzzled glance, but then smiled, as if to indicate that she wasn't planning to pursue the subject. She wondered privately, though, what experiences Joshua had had that had made him so unwilling to discuss it, and she wondered if Max had talked to him about her seizures.
"So, is there a tree skirt in that box of yours?" Tricia asked Logan, breaking the sudden tension in the room.
"Uh..." He dug down even further, and triumphantly came up with a bright red skirt, made of some type of fluffy, cottony fabric and edged with green trim. He balled it up and tossed it over Joshua's head to Tricia, and Joshua ducked, startled. After he recovered, he took the bows and became preoccupied with finding the perfect places to hang them around the room.
"Need some help with the tree?" Logan asked.
"I'll get it," Max said.
Logan frowned but didn't protest, just put his hands to his wheels and sighed, watching her. They were both equally stubborn about things, but it was Christmas Eve, so he wouldn't be the one to make things difficult. Not that night. His gaze followed Max as she went over to the tree and brought it over to where Tricia was getting the stand ready. Max looked up, feeling his eyes on her. "You didn't bring that saw with you by any chance, did you?" she asked him. This trunk needs to be cut a little more – evened out."
"No, but I have a toolbox here," he replied, going to the computer room. These days he used it mostly to hold his assortment of exoskeleton repair and maintenance tools, but he found a small handsaw that she could use, and brought it to her, swinging through the kitchen first to pick up his broom and dustpan. The two of them worked to cut and even out the trunk, then he let Max and Tricia guide it into the metal stand and secure it.
Logan went back to the box of decorations and starting unfurling the strings of tree lights. Eventually Joshua put up the bows he'd been given and went back over the sofa. Logan looked up, craning his neck to see Joshua, who towered above him. "All done?" Logan asked.
"All done," Joshua said, and pointed around the room to show where he'd hung the various bows. Then he sat down heavily on the expensive sofa, and Logan winced. "Why do you ride in the wheelchair, Logan?" he asked.
Logan smiled at the innocent question. He explained, for roughly the millionth time, about the exoskeleton and his having been shot and the paralysis. Joshua listened quietly and intently, and so did Max and Tricia, from across the room.
"Are you mad?"
Logan's brow wrinkled as he looked at Joshua in confusion. "Mad about what?" he asked. He was pretty sure he knew what, but he didn't want to answer the wrong question by mistake.
"Mad at the person who shot you."
"He's dead." Logan shrugged. "Being mad doesn't change anything." His eyes shot to Max, who was watching him tenderly. "Just annoys everyone around you."
"I'm mad at...the guards...at Manticore. For being mean to Isaac and all the others. And me," Joshua added, casting his eyes down to the floor. Then he looked at Logan searchingly. "Why are people bad?"
Logan glanced at the others, hoping to get some help, but they looked as stymied as he was at the unanswerable question. "Nobody knows," Logan finally said. "Some people hurt others for money. Some people are prejudiced and think that the people they hurt aren't really people, so it doesn't matter."
A low growl emerged from Joshua's throat, and in an instant, he was on his feet, snarling down at Logan threateningly. "We are people!" he said ferociously, then growled again.
As Max moved to Joshua's side to calm him, Logan put up his hands. "I know you are, big fella. Isaac, too. It doesn't make what they did any less wrong. But it's a reason." He put his hands down to his wheels and sighed. "Bruno – the man who shot me in the back – told me once, it wasn't personal." Logan's eyes darted to Max, who still had a hand on Joshua's arm as he breathed heavily, still very upset. "But I'm still in this wheelchair...I'm still paralyzed.
"I guess the point is, you'll never figure out why people are bad, and it doesn't really matter, anyway. You'll drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out, and it won't change a damn thing. You just have to be as good as you can be, and maybe make somebody else think twice about doing bad things."
Finally calmed, Joshua sat down on the sofa, and reached a big, hairy hand out to Logan's knee. "Sorry, Logan. Joshua...goes crazy sometimes," he said softly.
Logan smiled. "It's okay, big fella. We all go a little crazy sometimes. But, you know what? Why we're putting up these Christmas decorations? Christmas is a time to celebrate the good things about people...about humanity."
"A Christmas Carol," Joshua remembered. "Scrooge was bad, but then he turned good."
"Hey, you got any lights for this sad tree?" Tricia asked, making them all turn towards the corner. Their scrawny, five-foot tree stood in the corner, bare, its trunk and the stand wrapped in the soft, red tree skirt. The empty circular expanse of fabric seemed to beg for gaily wrapped gifts.
"As a matter of fact...I do," Logan told her, loading the strands onto his lap and wheeling over to her. "I need to go look for an extension cord, though."
The four of them spent the next hour decorating their tree to within an inch of its life. Joshua did indeed end up with several lengths of tinsel around his neck and a star on his head, until Max jumped up and grabbed it off so they could stick it on the top of the tree. As soon as that was done, Logan remembered that he had to put Christmas dinner on the table the next day for eight people, and he worriedly headed for the kitchen to start getting ready. He'd have to get up at dawn the next day to start the turkey roasting, and he wanted to be able to go right back to sleep for a while instead of staying up preparing the rest.
While he was puttering around in the kitchen, Max brought out a foam mattress for Joshua to sleep on, and several blankets. She apologized that he had to sleep on the floor, but he reminded her he'd slept in a lot worse places and for much longer than one night. After saying good night to them, Tricia went into the kitchen to find Logan at the island counter, a cutting board in his lap. He was carefully slicing fresh vegetable and periodically sliding them into a Tupperware container. "Counter's not quite low enough for comfort," he said by way of explanation.
"That looks easier, anyway," Tricia replied. "Could you put the knife down a second so I can hug you?" she asked with a smile.
He laid the knife on the counter, and she bent down to squeeze his shoulders, careful to avoid the vegetables still in his lap. He smelled her scent of flowery soap, and just a hint of the perfume she'd probably put on that morning in Horseshoe Bay. As she straightened back up, she kissed his cheek. "Thanks for getting me here, Logan. I really can't tell you how much it means."
Logan shrugged modestly. "Before I forget...I wanted to make sure that you're okay with seeing Colin tomorrow. I mean, I know you wanted to go over there tonight...but, well, he did hold a gun to your head. Talk about doing bad things..."
Tricia thought for a second, then nodded. "It was pretty bad," she agreed with a rueful smile. "But we're okay. And from what you've told me, he was as scared as we were. I think I can handle it...but thanks for asking." Again she thought what a wonderful person he was, but she didn't voice it, knowing how uncomfortable it made him to hear himself praised. "See you in the morning. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," he answered, picking the knife back up and going back to his work.
Several minutes later, Max finally came over to him. "Okay, Joshua's set, and I'm beat. You almost done?"
"Yeah. I'll finish up in the morning." He put everything in the refrigerator and Max helped him do a little cleaning. She was well aware that he couldn't start or finish anything in the kitchen until everything was spotless. Once the egg nog glasses and Max's empty milk glass were loaded in the dishwasher, Logan followed Max to the bedroom. They used his bathroom together to get ready for bed – since there were guests, they each left a tee shirt on, and Logan a pair of boxers. Then Max put her hands on Logan's shoulders and let him lead her to the bed.
Logan threw back the covers and transferred onto the crisp, navy blue sheets. Max crawled in over him and turned back to him as he lifted his legs onto the bed. She ran her hand along the leg closest to her. "Hey, you okay from our little park adventure earlier?"
"I guess we should make sure – I didn't pay much attention." He supported himself with one arm and watched as Max propped up his left leg and ran her hands over it lightly, looking for any abnormalities.
Feeling his gaze, she turned her head to glance sideways at him. "What?" she asked with a shy smile.
"Nothing." He was smiling at her, but not sure why. "You're so focused. It's cute."
She snorted, then put the left leg down and moved on to the right, but had barely propped it up when she pointed to a spot. "What's this?" she asked.
As she did so, Logan noticed the smallest of tremors running through her, but she ignored it, so he did, too, suppressing the desire to ask if she was okay, if he could do anything for her. He pushed up a little further and leaned forward as best he could too peer at the inside of his knee. Near her pointed index finger was a small, round patch of slightly pink skin, almost invisible unless one was looking for it.
"Damn it." Logan ran a resigned finger over it. "Happened a couple of months ago, too. Sam said the exoskeleton's irritating the skin. Thing is, I have no idea why. I mean, I've been using the damn thing for almost a year with no problem."
"So what are doctor's orders? We gotta nip this thing in the bud, right?"
Logan sighed. "Yeah. Well, for one thing, no exo tomorrow, but I wasn't planning on it, anyway. Can you get some antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid? That'll do for tonight."
When that was done, Max pulled the covers up over them. Neither liked having the unfamiliar feel of their clothing between them when she naturally gravitated to his embrace. "Wanna turn off the light?" Logan reminded her, and she rolled over and complied with his request. The moonlight shone through the window blinds, casting tiny lines of pale light across the floor and the bed. Logan turned his head and kissed her on the forehead, sighing deeply. "Did you have a good Christmas Eve?"
She nodded, her soft cheek brushing against his taut shoulder under the tee shirt, and she turned her head slightly to place a kiss there. "Thanks. Especially, you know, for Tricia."
At that moment, Logan felt yet another small seizure ripple through her shoulders and into his arm. "Did you take a couple more pills?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes, Dad. Really I just need some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a bitch. I think you overdid it with the invitations."
"Hey, who was I gonna leave out?" he protested. "You asked me to invite Original Cindy, and I can't very well leave the Kennedys in the safe house to celebrate their first Christmas away from home." A familiar guilt bubbled up in Logan's chest, and made it ache slightly. "At least Bling's going to spend the day with his family, so that's one less person."
"What about your family?" Max asked suddenly. She had barely given a thought to the Cales, but the mention of family triggered her curiosity.
"I haven't spent Christmas with them in years, and they won't stay at the house this year, not with Uncle Jonas... I talked to Bennett – he and Marianne are dragging Aunt Margo to Christmas dinner with Marianne's family."
Max repressed an evil laugh. "Gotta feel bad for them," she said instead.
"Yeah." They were quiet for a few minutes. Logan was thinking of the little white box in his nightstand drawer, now wrapped and tied with a ribbon. He'd thought of giving it to her that night in private, but had decided he wanted everyone to see her expression when she lifted the gift from the box.
"Do you...you buy into this whole Christmas thing, Logan?" Max asked softly and hesitantly.
"What do you mean?"
"You know, the whole Messiah dealio – immaculate conception, wise men bringing the kid stuff that has nothing to do with anything..."
Logan laughed into the darkness. "Lot of people believe it, even after so long," he observed. "Pretty arrogant to just dismiss it as the opiate of the masses."
"Lotta people do," Max pointed out.
"And a lot of people make it the center of their existence," Logan retorted. "Billions of people over 2000 years can't be wrong...can they?"
"So you do buy into it," Max declared.
Logan shrugged slightly. "I don't know. What about you, Max – do you believe in God?"
She was quiet for several moments. "That's a different question."
"Yeah. But one we've never discussed."
She was silent again. "I was created by people in a DNA lab. If there is a God, I'm a perversion of His Will," she said bitterly. "Not really an incentive to like the guy...or even believe He exists. My life's a lot easier to deal with if He doesn't."
"I don't know about that," Logan said. "And you didn't answer my question."
"It's late, Logan, and I'm tired, thanks to my man-made genetics." Max shifted restlessly, and finally turned away from Logan, curling up her legs into the fetal position.
Logan waited, but she didn't reach back for his arm and tug on him to roll over and join her, like she normally did. Neither did he hear her reach back with one leg and pull his legs over to touch hers. He sighed quietly, then took a breath and gently removed his left arm from under her, then pushed up on both elbows. He rolled over on his left hip, neatly spooning her, then reached down and nudged his right leg over the left to follow his torso.
Lying back down, he slid the left arm back under her, and caressed her hair and arm with the other hand. After briefly considering trying to apologize, or pressing a little further on the subject, he reluctantly decided to do neither. He didn't want to upset her, not tonight, not when she was weak and tired. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too." Her reply was muffled, as if her mouth was halfway pressed against the pillow. "'Night."
"'Night." Logan lifted her hair gently and kissed the barcode on the back of her neck as yet another tiny seizure rippled through her. He nuzzled his nose against her hairline and drifted off to sleep. Max, however, lay there for a long time, thinking about everything and nothing, all at once. She was tired, but sleep wouldn't come. She realized that she'd done the exact same thing that Logan had done a month earlier, when he'd put off an important conversation because he wasn't comfortable with the topic. It had scared him, and anything touching religion or a higher power scared Max. She hadn't answered him because she didn't know how to, and she didn't think she'd ever know. Not knowing, and feeling like she was powerless in the face of such an important, yet intangible, area of human existence, had always frustrated and angered Max, so she just avoided the whole thing. If she didn't admit to anyone that she was confused or scared, then she could convince herself that she wasn't, that she was too smart, too tough to think about something as silly as God or religion. Deep down, she realized that about herself, but damn it, she just didn't want to deal with it.
She lay there so long, staring into the semi-darkness, that she had to shift position. Slowly and carefully, she rolled over and came face-to-face with Logan's sleeping form. She kissed him lightly on the lips, then gently nudged him over onto his back. No harm in changing his position while she was at it, she figured. Curling up into the crook of his arm, she gave one final sigh, then fell into a fitful sleep.