EPISODE SEVEN –CHAPTER SEVEN

Disclaimer: See Episode 7, Chapter 5.

Spoilers: Season 2, MITM.

Rating: PG-13.

A/N: Okay, one more chapter (this one) before the presents are opened. Sorry for dragging it out, but I thought maybe some of you would prefer it this way, rather than waiting two more weeks for a super-long chapter. Was I right? Let me know. =) For getting out this chapter as soon as I did, you can thank the certain someone who started bugging me at the end of last week, desperate for more M/L fic. I really have to get to work now on VS3 episode 11. You can find this also at http://willowsdarkangelfic.freeservers.com (please leave me a review and I will respond!) and check out http://www.darkangelvirtuality.com if you haven't already. Thanks for all the feedback you guys have given me over the months – it's been almost a year since I started writing IAFYDS and I never would have kept it up this long were it not for knowing how much it was appreciated. And that's what I appreciate. So thanks. =)

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The first thing Logan realized when he opened his eyes was that Max was still lying beside him. That almost never happened, since she didn't sleep much, but here she still was, turned away from him, one arm hanging off the far side of the bed. He pushed up on his arms and scooted backwards a little so he could sit up fully, and saw his left leg under the covers, stretched out across Max's half of the mattress. No wonder she was almost off the bed, he realized; she must have been sleeping too soundly to protest his leg edging her farther and farther to one side.

Smiling, he nudged the covers down some and maneuvered his leg back where it belonged. For the longest time, Max had worried aloud to him that she would injure him at night, because he frequently kicked or nudged her while both of them were sleeping, and she, in her sleep, tended to react violently. Logan had offered to take the muscle relaxants he kept on hand, but she insisted she didn't mind the nightly undercover battles. That, he was glad of, because he' d never liked taking pills, and besides that, he didn't want to become so accustomed to the relaxants that he couldn't go to sleep without them. He would have done it for her, though. As it was, he only took them when the spasms were particularly strong and annoying. And for her part, it seemed that Max had learned, even in sleep, to either ignore him or treat his misbehaving limbs gently.

Logan turned towards her slightly then, running a hand ever-so-softly over her hair, which was splayed carelessly across the pillowcase in a dark, shimmering spray. Then he turned away and started moving, slowly and quietly, towards the edge of the bed, trying not to wake her. This was one of those times that he consciously wished for his legs back, wished he could artlessly slip out of bed in one fluid movement, unnoticed even by Max's keen senses. But that wasn't reality – not anymore, he thought with a sigh as he twisted and scooted and Max began to stir.

Finally when he was at the edge of the bed and his feet were on the ground, he glanced back nervously at her. She'd rolled over but wasn't fully conscious, so he sat there silently for a few long minutes while she drifted back to sleep. Those seizures really knocked her out, he thought, and was strangely grateful for it. There was something he wanted to do before anyone was awake.

The wheelchair was still patiently waiting beside the bed, and Logan winced as it squeaked and groaned as he transferred into it and inched back the brakes as slowly and quietly as possible. The new chair he'd ordered couldn't get here fast enough, he thought, but he was stuck with this one for now. He'd loaned his spare to Colin indefinitely, since Logan wasn't really comfortable with it to begin with. He also knew how frustrated Colin was with the rehab chair now that he was stronger and quickly becoming a bona fide wheeler, Logan thought, smiling again to himself. The smile disappeared as Logan recalled what Bling had told him about Colin wanting to quit rehab. Logan remembered that every time he had visited the safehouse recently, Colin had complained incessantly that Bling still wouldn't let him use the exoskeleton. Well, I'd have been just as impatient, Logan thought. It's only natural for him to want to walk again as soon as he possibly can.

Bling just doesn't understand, Logan told himself as he came around the end of the bed, the rubber wheels treading silently on the hardwood floor. He stopped next to his nightstand, Max lying just twelve inches away, and little by little, edged the drawer open and lifted out the small, wrapped box inside. Leaving the drawer open to avoid the noise of closing it, Logan swiveled around and went to the bathroom, sliding the door shut. When he was done there, he crossed the room to his dresser, where he got out a pair of clean sweats, just to wear until he could shower. Finally, he left the room to put on the pants in the hallway, so Max wouldn't hear him.

His next stop was the storage closet, where he dragged out the large, rectangular box that had been delivered two days earlier, and stood it up against the wall. It was too large for him to bother wrapping it, but he wanted it under the tree nonetheless. He inched the chair into the crowded closet and picked up a few more gifts, plopping them on his lap and backing out. The apartment was still quiet, and Logan was hoping that meant both Tricia and Joshua were still sleeping. Wheeling into the kitchen, past the guest room and into the living room, he saw Joshua's long body still sacked out on the pallet Max had made for him. Unfortunately, with Joshua there, the path between the sofa and the computer room wasn't wide enough for the chair, so he backed up and wheeled around the long way, going to the Christmas tree from the front hallway. Once there, he arranged the few gifts he had under the tree, then backed up and smiled, suppressing a sudden urge to start whistling Christmas carols. He went back to the closet and heaved the large box onto his lap, wheeling with difficulty back the way he had come and standing the large box up to lean against the wall nearest the tree.

After one more trip to the closet and back to the Christmas tree, he wheeled back and admired his handiwork. A lump in his throat rose as he realized he'd never seen that sight in his apartment. A properly decorated tree with wrapped presents underneath looked almost foreign to him. Since Valerie, Logan was a little ashamed to admit that he'd spent Christmas either working on Eyes Only or occasionally with Jonas and Margot, a formal event marked by lots of alcohol and not much else. But what else would he have done? There hadn't been anyone very close to him during those years...not until Max.

Clearing his throat, quietly so as not to wake Joshua, Logan turned around and headed around to the kitchen to preheat the oven for the stuffed turkey waiting in the refrigerator. As he moved around, getting things ready, he misjudged and banged the footrest of the chair into the metal support of the island counter, and a few seconds later, he heard rustling coming from the guest room and the living room. Smooth, he scolded himself. Soon both Joshua and Tricia made their appearances, and Logan sent Tricia to shower before Joshua; he figured the shower was going to need a thorough cleaning after the transgenic got through in there. While Tricia was showering, Logan had Joshua help out in the kitchen, after making sure his hands were washed.

"Why don't you set the table?" Logan asked him, showing him the lower cabinet where the plates were kept, grinning as Joshua bent, stooped, then got down on hands and knees to reach the dishes. "We need seven plates."

"Who's coming to dinner?" Joshua asked, trying to balance the plates as he stood back up.

Logan grimaced, expecting to be sweeping up the pieces in short order. "Uh...just some friends of mine. And Original Cindy."

"Logan's friends know about Joshua?"

Logan sighed. He knew he should have prodded Max the previous evening into explaining the situation, but she had wanted Joshua to enjoy Christmas Eve without Manticore's interference, and Logan had gone along with it. Of course, now that left him to do the explaining.

"No. Actually, my friends don't know about you, or Manticore, or that Max is X5," he said tentatively.

Carrying the plates to the table, Joshua stopped once there and didn't turn around right away. "Joshua has to leave, then. People are afraid of what they don't understand."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, big fella. We wanted to have you visit for Christmas Eve, and then some other people for Christmas Day. They're...they're away from their family, and they're pretty lonely."

"Joshua lonely in Father's house." He turned around then and looked down at Logan as he sat there, hands on wheels. "Thanks for Christmas Eve, Logan."

"No problem," he replied softly. "And hey, I'm going to pack up some of my famous Christmas dinner to take home with you, okay?"

"Okay," Joshua agreed with a smile.

Wanting to make what was left of Joshua's Christmas experience enjoyable, Logan asked him to help with the food preparation, once the table was set. It was pretty funny, Logan thought as Joshua carefully put the salad together from the various chopped vegetables Logan had cut up the night before. Here he was teaching a transgenic with canine DNA to cook Christmas dinner. And the funny part was really that it didn't seem out of the ordinary in the least.

When Tricia was done and dressed, in a pair of black jeans and thick red sweater over a white turtleneck, she came into the kitchen at the same time Max was coming out from Logan's room, already having showered and dressed, in charcoal-gray cargo pants and a tight gray tank top over a sports bra. Typical Max, and gorgeous, Logan thought, smiling up at her and grabbing her hand. "Good morning, ladies," he said, his gaze finally shifting to Tricia, who was already smiling at his obvious infatuation with her daughter. "Feeling better?" he asked Max.

She nodded. "Amazing what a couple hours sleep does for ya."

Logan's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Only a couple hours? What were you doing all night?"

She shrugged evasively. "Counting ceiling tiles, mostly. A hundred and thirty-two," she informed him, and when he responded with a look of confusion, she added, "Ceiling tiles, in your bedroom."

"I'm sorry you didn't sleep well. Might have had something to do with the fact that this naughty guy," he patted his left leg, "had you clinging to the edge of the bed for dear life."

She laughed dismissively. "Hey, if that bothered me, I'da had to tie you to the bedposts a long time ago."

At that, Tricia burst out laughing, and Max's cheeks grew warm and pink. "You know what I mean," she protested, but Tricia and Logan just grinned at her. Finally she went to the refrigerator and pulled it open, searching for the milk. "Joshua, you take a shower yet?" she called over her shoulder.

"Helping Logan with Christmas dinner," he replied, also over his own shoulder as he carefully and intently stirred the green beans that were simmering on the stove.

"Go take a shower, please. Hey, there's hot water," she told him, and he looked up at her.

"I know, Joshua has to go home before Logan's friends come over for Christmas dinner," he said, almost as if in defeat.

Max's face softened. "I'm sorry, Joshua. Someday...someday people will be able to handle your pretty face. I promise." And she smiled a little, trying to soften the hurt.

"Maybe, little fella. But not today." Joshua put down the spoon and headed off to the bathroom.

Max felt Logan squeeze her hand again, and she looked down at the concern in his eyes. "Thanks...sorry I didn't tell him."

Logan shrugged, and rubbed his right leg with that hand. "It was gonna hurt no matter who told him. I'm going to go shower, too. If the hot water holds out long enough," he added with a crooked smile. She didn't respond, so he let go of her hand and looked over at Tricia. "Can you keep an eye on things here till I get back?" She nodded, and he wheeled from the room.

"I admire you for taking care of Joshua the way you have, Max. He'd probably be in a lab somewhere if you hadn't helped," Tricia said, walking over to the refrigerator where Max stood.

Max didn't look at her for a second. "It's my fault, that he's out in the world. Had to do something."

"It's not your fault. You did him a favor. Not your fault the world isn't ready for him. Not your fault that Manticore decided to screw with something that wasn't theirs to screw with."

"Yeah, I guess." Max smiled at her mother, then padded past her in bare feet into the living room, where her smile widened when she saw the presents under the tree. She curled up on the sofa and just stared at it for a while. True, it wasn't fair that Joshua wouldn't be able to share the rest of the day with them, but at least he'd spent Christmas Eve with them, she reassured herself. They would just have to work around the rest of the world to give Joshua a meaningful life. Her thoughts turned to Alec, and she frowned. He didn't have the same problem as Joshua, since he physically fit into society, like Max herself. She'd invited him, somewhat reluctantly, to Christmas dinner, but he'd refused. Said he'd never celebrated holidays before and he wasn't going to start now.

Of course, she'd reminded him that he'd done just that at Thanksgiving, and he'd made some smart comment about not wanting to pass up a free meal. But even that lure wasn't enough to get him to Logan's apartment for Christmas, since this time Logan had gone and invited a bunch of total strangers. Alec just wasn't ready to do the family thing. Instead, he'd probably end up at Crash, drinking himself into oblivion, or alone in his apartment. Despite the constant frustration and irritation that Alec caused Max, that image made her sad. At least she had Logan to give her perspective in this crazy world. Alec didn't have anybody special to remind him that life didn't have to be defined by what had come before, by Manticore.

After tending to the stove and checking on the turkey, Tricia made her way into the living room, repeating Max's smile when she caught sight of the Christmas tree and wrapped presents. "Your boyfriend is really special. I know you know that, but...he is."

Max smiled at her. "Yeah, he is," she agreed.

Suddenly Logan's cell phone began to ring from inside the computer room. Max was tempted to ignore it, but Tricia asked, "Are you going to get that?"

Max sighed and stood up, going to the phone and snapping a curt, "Yeah?"

"Uh...I...I need to speak to..."

"He's busy," Max interrupted. "I work for him. What's up?"

"I...I can't tell anyone but him. He told me not to," the man on the end answered nervously.

"Listen, buddy, I'm the one's gonna help you if you need it, so spill."

Silence for a few moments. "Uh...okay, but have him get in touch as soon as he can. The info he wanted me to give to the Steelheads...I gave it to 'em, but now they want to talk to the guy in charge. And there is no guy in charge, except...your guy. They're pissing and moaning that someone's trying to horn in on their territory, and they're holding me responsible. They gave me till the end of the week to set up a meeting! I need some help – fast."

"Yeah, all right, just chill. Go eat some turkey and forget about it. It's Christmas, you know," Max told him flippantly.

"Yeah, and I wanna stay alive to see another one," said the guy irritably. "Just tell him." The connection was cut abruptly, and Max put the phone down and returned to the living room.

"Who was it?" Tricia asked.

Max was pretty certain that Tricia couldn't have heard the details of the conversation, and her mind whirled to think of an explanation. "Just a guy Logan's interviewing for a story. No biggie." She sat back down and put her feet up on the sofa. "So, where were we?"

"We were agreeing that Logan is a saint," Tricia reminded her, giggling.

"Hey, let's not go overboard," Max said dryly. "He's got his issues," she added, thinking about his obsession with Eyes Only and the problems it had caused them. she knew if she told him about the phone call he'd just received, he'd immerse himself in it until it was resolved, despite his promise not to work during the holiday. The end of the week was only two days away, and Logan would put his desire to take down the Steelheads above Max's desire for some peace and quiet. Which is why she was going to hold off telling him, she decided. For 24 hours – that would still give him plenty of time to save his informant's sorry ass.

Suddenly Max realized that Tricia had asked her a question, and looked at her blankly. "What?"

Tricia smiled patiently and repeated, "You mean...issues about his paralysis? Or something else?"

"I hope he's pretty much over that," Max said. "We...we talked about it. I mean, he still doesn't like it, but at least he's not—" She cut herself off, aware that she'd almost made a reference to Logan's past suicidal thoughts. She shrugged, changing the subject abruptly. "He just gets too wrapped around his job, sometimes. That's all. And he's stubborn as hell."

"And you wouldn't know anything about that, I guess," Tricia teased her.

They talked a few more minutes, till Logan came out of the bedroom, now dressed in those tight light blue jeans that Max loved but didn't get to see much because they didn't fit over the exoskeleton. Logan had owned this particular pair for years, and they were the perfect length standing up, but in the chair, they rode up a little too high on his ankles, which Max thought was adorable. Since his shooting, Logan had gradually replaced most of his pants with longer and baggier versions, for sitting as well as for the exo, but he kept the ones he now wore, a fact for which Max was entirely grateful, because he looked incredible in them, too short or not.

Focusing again on him, Max noticed that with the jeans he wore a deep maroon turtleneck sweater, and brown socks and loafers. His hair was as messy as always, but amazingly, he'd shaved, and his smooth skin glowed. Max even thought she could smell a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne with her heightened sense of smell. Yummy, she thought, as he recognized the lustful gleam in her eye and smiled. "You take care of that spot? The one on your knee?"

"Yep, and I even got dressed, all by myself." It took a second for Max to process what he'd said, and Logan grinned at Tricia, who stifled a laugh.

"Whatever. See what happens next time you ask me to play nursemaid," she said, pretending to be miffed. Logan was still smiling as he turned the chair in the direction of the kitchen.

When Joshua finally emerged from the bathroom, clean but dressed in the ripe clothes he'd been wearing the previous day, Logan began packing up the Christmas dinner he'd promised. Most everything was ready or close to ready, and just being kept warm. He put in an extra helping of his made-from-scratch pumpkin pie, and handed it to Joshua, who was already salivating. "There'll be leftovers, too," Logan assured him. "Max can bring some over later this week."

"Thanks, Logan." Joshua stuck out his hand for Logan to shake; ever since Max had taught him the art of shaking hands, he'd been eager to use it as much as possible, and Logan gladly obliged him.

Max came over and told Joshua it was time to leave. They said their goodbyes, and Logan reminded Max to stop by on the way back to pick up the Kennedys. Her deliberate eye roll told him exactly what she thought of his needless reminder, but he just grinned at her and turned back to the stove, pushing up on one locked wheel to peer carefully at the boiling potatoes and add some salt to the mix. "Catch ya later," she told him, and lifted a hand at Tricia before heading out.

Logan and Tricia passed the time chatting about nothing important and finishing the last of the preparations for dinner. It took Max almost an hour to make the trip, because just as on Thanksgiving, the sector cops were out in force, taking more time than usual with each passenger through sector checkpoints. During that time, Original Cindy made it over to the penthouse, and Logan had the doorman buzz her up. Tricia met her at the door.

"Hi, are you Original Cindy?" Tricia asked her. Logan had described Max's best friend to her while they were waiting – how they'd met and how she'd discovered Max's true identity, and told her about their enduring friendship.

"That's me, sugah. And you must be none other than the amazin' Tricia. Heard enough about you to write your memoirs." With a wink, she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it up. She was dressed in the holiday spirit, Original Cindy-style. Tight red leather pants, black pumps, and a tight, dark green shirt that left little to the imagination.

Tricia laughed. "Same here. Logan's in the kitchen, and Max's gone to get the others." Original Cindy followed Tricia into the kitchen, and plopped herself onto a stool at the island counter.

"What's cooking', boo?" she asked Logan with a sassy smile.

He turned around from where he was sitting trying to pick out a couple bottles of wine, and grinned at her. "Hey there. Just the usual gourmet meal, you know," he joked. He put two bottles in his lap and wheeled around to deposit them on the dining room table, then met them at the counter. "Hope you came hungry."

"Hey, you know me. My philosophy is, always eat like it's your last day on earth. That way you ain't gotta worry 'bout fittin' into your clothes tomorrow." All three of them laughed, enjoying the air of contentment and cheer than permeated the room. Their lives were so hectic and complicated these days, Logan was grateful for the two days they had to just relax and recharge. He was determined to make the most of any time that he could make Max forget what awaited her beyond the apartment door.

Ten minutes later, they heard the front door open, and cheerful voices wafted into the kitchen. "Ready to meet our guests?" Logan asked, directing the question mostly toward Tricia.

"No time like the present," she replied, and she got up to follow Logan to the door.