Greetings…we're Two Smart Girls…we love DA, but have never written a story together. We hope you like this one and send us some reviews.
As usual, we're borrowing this from all the good creative folks over at Dark Angel…we'll put the kids back where we found them when we're done. And it's free publicity, isn't it?
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Max's eyes scanned over the sheet. Severed spinal cord. Eighth thoracic vertebra. Complete loss of mobility in the lower extremities.
Her eyes moved over his still body, the only sound in the room were the monitors keeping track of his blood pressure and pulseox.
She grabbed his wallet from the drawer, but it was empty. Her eyes moved down to take in his face, his still body.
A movement outside the window caught her eye and she turned to see what it was. Spotting the sniper on the building across the street, she carefully detached Logan from the machines and moved him into the hallway, away from danger.
Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
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She stood at the window, not sure if she should go in or not. It was clear that he was struggling, but it didn't feel like her place. She waited a couple more minutes, then, reached for the door and walked into Logan's room.
"Can I help you with that?"
Logan looked up at her, surprised. "How did you find me?'
"Can't escape and evade this long without a few tricks up my sleeve."
Logan nodded.
"So…can I help?" Max asked again.
Logan shrugged.
Max knelt down in front of him. His legs dangled off the edge of the hospital bed, his feet in socks, pointed down, not moving. Max reached for the pants that lay next to him on the table. She slipped his right foot into the pants and then the left. Pulling them up to his knees, she stopped, unsure of what to do next.
"Yeah, I wasn't sure what to do here either," Logan replied.
"Can you lift yourself?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Not yet."
Max lifted Logan's limp left leg and moved the pants further up. Then she repeated the same action with his right leg. He was watching as she rolled him toward her on his right hip and then the left, her hand moving up his thigh, continuing through the unfeeling zones of his body.
"Thank you," he said.
"No problem," Max replied. "Not like I didn't probably owe you a little somethin'."
Max watched as he transferred into the chair, how his body moved now, how his arms made up for the legs that no longer worked. He struggled to shift his weight from the bed to the chair, but she knew he would not want help. With one last effort, he slipped into the chair. He picked his feet up one at a time and put them on the bar that served as a footrest. His hands slid down to the wheels of his chair and he pivoted to face her, his right arm pushing forward as the left one held him in place.
Sitting there, in the chair, he was different somehow. That night, in the Penthouse, as he had come on to her, trying to see her barcode, there had been something, a stirring, but now…it was very different.
Her eyes moved down his body, along his strong arms that would propel his body now, further to his chest, covered in a white t-shirt and then down to his still legs, his feet unfeeling in their socks.
"I'm supposed to wait here for the therapist," Logan told her. "You don't have to stay, if you don't want to."
Max sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. "Is there anything I can do to help with the therapy? Cause I'd do it. If you want me to."
"Thanks," Logan replied. "I'd like that. It's been…well…hard. And today they're taking me to the pool for the first time."
"I can hold my breath for a very long time," Max answered, smiling.
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Max trailed behind as the young woman pushed Logan's chair down the hall to the water therapy room. He had wheeled himself for the first half of the distance, but it was clear his strength had not totally returned and the aide said he should save himself for the therapy session.
"It's the hardest work I've done," Logan had said to her as they waited.
She didn't ask him about his plans, about his fears, how this had changed everything. She couldn't, not yet. Besides, she had to figure out why this had changed everything for her.
Logan disappeared into a locker room to change into his bathing suit. She waited on the edge of the pool, looking up when a young man walked in.
"Did you bring your suit?" he asked.
Max shook her head. "I had no idea I would need one."
"We have extras in the women's locker room. You can borrow one if you like."
Max shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to get in the way."
"No, really, it's no problem. My assistant is gone today, so I could use the extra set of hands. And I think he could use you for some emotional support. It's clear that he feels pretty alone in all of this."
Max nodded and then turned to head toward the locker room. She stopped and turned back. "Did he say that?"
"He mentions your name enough that I know you mean something special," the therapist answered.
Max stared at him for another beat and then turned back toward the locker room.
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When she came out, Logan was waiting on the side of the pool in his chair. She caught his eye and smiled, then let her eyes drop and move along his body once again. His legs bare, she could see how limp they looked until the right one suddenly moved. She gasped slightly and looked back up at him, her face full of questions.
"My legs haven't quite figured out what's happened yet," Logan replied to her unanswered question. "The therapy will help with the spasm. Plus, it helps keep everything toned since my Stairmaster days are over."
Max nodded again. She felt like she had been so quiet all day, but the witty comebacks had been slower to appear. There was a spot in her stomach that made her feel unsettled, but at the same time compelled her to stay there, with him, no matter what.
She stepped back as the therapist approached to help Logan into the pool. She watched as he set a stool next to Logan's chair, then helped Logan transfer to the stool and then again to the floor.
"Max, you get in the pool," the therapist said.
She walked over to the steps and entered the warm water. "This feels great, Logan," she called.
"Can't wait," Logan replied.
She walked over to the wall near where Logan and the therapist waited. She stepped closer as the therapist directed. He stood behind Logan and moved his body forward as she took Logan's legs and directed them into the water. The therapist had Logan brace himself into a sitting position with his arms as the therapist got into the pool.
He took Max's place and helped Logan into the water.
"Now Max, you come here, behind Logan and help him float."
Max moved around Logan, watching as his limp legs floated in the water. She slipped her arms under his and pulled his head close to her chest.
She listened as the therapist explained why they were working in the pool, how it was important to keep Logan's muscles supple now that he wasn't using them.
But she also could feel the muscles along his abdomen, when she readjusted her arms to hold him up, how some were still working and others weren't. It was amazing how suddenly they were slack. It was hard to not keep moving her hands down there to feel it.
Logan's legs moved gracefully through the water, as the therapist bent and released them. It was like a fine ballet.
Finally it was time to get out of the water. Max held Logan as the therapist reversed the process they had used to get him in the water. When Logan was out of the pool, she climbed out and got a towel to lay on the seat of his wheelchair. The therapist helped Logan into the chair and she took the second towel to dry him off.
"You did a good job," she said to Logan as she picked his right leg up and began moving the towel along, wiping away the water. She moved up the leg, paying close attention to the spot behind his knee, drying it carefully. Up his thigh she moved, the hair on his legs sticking up ever so slightly. As she reached his abdomen, he laughed.
"What?" she asked.
"I'm still ticklish," he replied, smiling at her.
She laughed lightly and returned to her duty of drying him off.
Logan grabbed her hand, towel and all. "Thanks, Max. Thanks for being here."
Unable to respond, she just nodded and then looked away, her towel moving across his chest and onto his shoulders. Finally finished, she stepped back to survey her work.
"You must be getting cold," she said.
"You could dress me," he replied, an evil twinkle in his eye.
She thought for a moment, then smiled. "Not today."
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She had been thinking about him all week. All month. Since that day at the hospital, really. Constantly.
As she slipped into the apartment, she could hear him doing an Eyes Only broadcast. A smile crossed her face. He was back, really back.
She paused, not sure how she was going to react when she saw him again. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room
"See you're back at it. Rockin' the boat."
"Somebody's got to," Logan answered, turning to face her.
"I would have come sooner, but...I didn't. How you doin'?" she asked, her voice staying calm.
"Not in any pain...the good and bad news of a blown-out spinal cord," Logan replied, his voice clipped.
Her eyes drifted over his body, the wheelchair, his unmoving legs. "I'm sorry."
"My mother used to say, 'The universe is right on schedule. Everything happens the way it's supposed to.'"
Her eyes snapped to his, shock in her voice. "You believe that?"
"I've never been much for trying to figure out why bad things happen. I just know they do. So, the job's trying to figure out how to deal with the consequences...which you did. Took that son of a bitch out."
Max watched him as he kept talking, adding comments where necessary. He was still Logan, champion of the downtrodden, but there was something different about him, about how she felt about him. Before he'd been the means to an end, but now…
It wasn't that she felt responsible. No. It was something else. It was that feeling, deep in her body. That warmth, that desire.
It was the thing that had kept him in her dreams.
"I need a favor," Logan asked.
"You can keep this. I really don't have anyplace to put it," she replied handing him back the cat statue he had tried to return to her again. This feeling, it was strange and while she was so drawn to him, there was part of her that was saying she should stay away. It was the thing that had kept her away from him since the day at the hospital when the sniper had tried to kill him.
But it was the same thing that kept the visions, the thoughts, the dreams coming.
"On another matter...federal corrections used to keep records on distinguishing marks...scars, tattoos. I did a search and came up with this. ID-ed as a Michael Hanover. Booked for armed robbery nine years ago. He escaped custody after four hours. Hasn't been seen or heard from since."
Max took the file from Logan. "Zack."
There was no going back now.
The End