Thanks for the great reviews so far.  We love getting them and would like to hear from others if you're reading the story.  There was a comment wondering if this was safe for shippers...well, we're season one shipper girls, so we think you'll be happy.

Hope you're enjoying the ride... - 2 Smart Girlsss

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Max slipped in the apartment. Logan had beeped her while she was at Crash, and while it had annoyed her, at the same time she was also relieved and strangely aroused.  She was in one of those moods…the mood where she would jump the bones of just about anything or anyone who presented himself to her. A relatively unpleasant prospect, Eric had been her mark tonight…well, until she got beeped. And on the way over, the prospect of seeing Logan again…that wasn't a disappointment either.

She could hear Bling and Logan in the therapy room. Logan was really pushing it, having Bling come in twice a day. But she could understand. He felt out of control about his condition, and if there was anything Logan Cale wanted…it was control.

"Come on, Bling...one more set," she heard Logan say behind the screen. She slid around the corner to find Logan sitting on the table, his upper body covered in sweat from the session. There was no sweat on his legs, which now lay still, hanging off the table.

"You can't do this all at once. You've got to pace yourself, man. Otherwise, you'll burn out," Bling replied.

"I don't think so," Logan argued back. Max remained silent in the corner, watching the two interact.

"Patience in all things, my friend," Bling consoled, then looked up and saw that Max had arrived. "Anyway, you got company."

Max snapped back from her thoughts. "Hey, kids. Am I interrupting?" she asked lightly.

Logan and Bling teased a bit more until Bling left. Logan was pushing it and Bling had told him so.

"Don't you need to get some water?" she asked. On his way out the door, Bling had reminded Logan to rehydrate.

Logan sighed and reached for his chair. "Yeah, better follow the doctor, or rather, *therapist's* order. I don't want to get in trouble." He slid gracefully from the table into his chair. His ability to get around had really improved in the past few weeks, and he had gotten much stronger. The muscles across his chest rippled as he swung his body onto the chair cushion. He still made a slight grunt as he did so, but she liked that.  She watched as he lifted his feet off the table and down onto the footrests, each move smooth and practiced.

"Huh?" she asked, realizing Logan had asked her a question.

"Did you have any luck with our friends tonight?" he asked again.

"Yeah," Max responded, dumping her bag of money out on the therapy table.  "It's amazing what happens when you put three dirt bags in a room and money disappears. Tempers flare. Guns are drawn. Three dead dirt bags."

Logan laughed and she looked up, trying to figure out if he knew what was causing her inattention. It was always something gnawing at her when she was over here, something about him, but tonight…tonight it was much worse.  Tonight she was ready to just flip him backward out of that chair and take him right on the…

"This will at least be partial repayment for what they paid the smugglers.  And with Solinski and company deceased, I'd say our work is through here."

Work? Done? What? Max was confused. This was all he needed her for? She watched as Logan pivoted his chair and began wheeling toward the kitchen.

"Uh, uh…not so fast," she demanded.

Logan stopped and turned back so he was facing her.

"We're not done. No…we aren't." Her heart was pounding, her face was getting flushed and she was…well…wet.

"No, I think we're square," Logan answered. "And really, thanks Max."

She stood there for a minute, then took a step closer to him. "No, we're not done. This was an exchange. I help you, you find my brothers and sisters. Where's Zack?"

"I'm still developing information," Logan responded.

"Whatever that means," Max retorted.

"It means when I come up with something substantive, you'll be the first to know."

Now she was getting irritated with him. "Look, I kept my end of the bargain by running this little errand for you…"

"And I fully intend to keep mine. But Project Manticore was a covert operation. It's going to take some time. 'Patience in all things,' right?" Logan asked.

Patience. Hah. He should try to live in her body, with her life and then be patient…but, he was living in a whacked out body. He *did* need to be patient. She had to cut him some slack. Maybe get him on the couch with a nice glass of wine, massage his feet…

No, she was still getting her fair share of his time. "Spare me the lecture. I waited nine years for my brother. Now, if you can help me like you said you could, great. If not, don't waste my time."

"I'm doing my best," Logan replied.

Max turned and began walking toward the door, then stopped and turned back to face him. "Give me a call when you've got something."

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Max walked out of Fogle Towers and stood next to her bike. Damn. Logan was hot. And with her feline condition….she was ready to put him in his bathtub, back him up against the wall, climb on top and…

No. She was mad at him. And anyway, it was never good to mix business with pleasure. Not even that kind of pleasure. Last call wasn't for another hour and hitting Crash again wasn't the worse idea.

She climbed on her bike and took off into the night.

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Max walked into Crash and over to the bar, finding Eric, the prospect from earlier, still sitting there.

"Well, well, well. Do my eyes deceive me or is this the woman of my dreams?" Eric asked.

"Don't talk. Just come," she responded, leading him out of the bar and to her bike.

A quick ride home later, they entered Max's apartment.

"Make yourself at home," she said as she headed into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, she stood at the sink, staring into the mirror. "Max, do you have any idea what you're doing? You're going to march out there right now and tell Eric you think it would be best if he went home. On second thought, you're not leaving this room. So what? Am I going to stay here all night? What do you know, anyway?"

Her personal argument over, she headed back into her bedroom.

Eric was sitting in bed, his back leaning up against the pillows that were next to the headboard. He smiled and gestured for her to sit on the bed next to him.

She crossed the room, stepping carefully around his wheelchair, which was placed next to her bed where he could reach it.

"I'm so glad you came back to find me," he said as she sat down next to him.  He lifted himself up from the bed and she helped move his legs as he lay down.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Take off my shoes," Eric directed.

She slipped them from his limp feet, then moved up and began to loosen his pants.

"I hope I can please you," he said.

"You already do," she responded. She leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders and pressed him back onto the pillow, kissing him harder…

Max looked up. Eric was passed out in her bed. He sighed and rolled over and began to snore.

Passed out. No wheelchair.

What the hell was going on with her?

The End