Kim was true to her word. She was determined to be friends with Logan, whether he liked it or not. For the duration of a month's time, she did her damnedest.

            She got mixed signals from him. It was hard to tell whether he was in a welcoming mood or not. At first, she decided that him seeing her might be too painful, her looking so much like that girl…Max.

But over the next few weeks, she sent him gifts, whether by mail or leaving them on his doorstep. When Kim found out he liked to cook, she sent him recipe books. When she discovered art was another favorite of his, she bought a collection of art books. And once his love for classical music was discovered, Kim scrounged up several CD's for him that she found were to his liking. She admired his collection of rare and expensive wines and got him a beautiful wine rack.

Most importantly, Kim would pop over and check up on him before she went to work and whenever she got home to say hello, but to secretly make sure he hadn't been drinking. Thankfully, she'd never run into Asha, whom she hadn't thought about since they'd run into each other, though Kim would see Asha's car in the parking lot near Foggle Towers once in while and it would stay there for hours. Kim would stare out her window, bowl of mac and cheese in hand, wondering what the hell they did for so long. And how did he drink without Asha knowing?

He probably has scotch in a tumbler and tells Asha it's water.

Kim had accepted the fact that Logan had started drinking to "dull the pain" of Max's death and to "get over the shock" of seeing Kim, almost a doppelganger of her. She knew that just because she told him to stop that he would magically quit.

If Logan was asleep when Kim arrived (he had told her once where he hid an extra key), she would pace around his beautiful penthouse, admiring paintings and knickknacks and photographs. There were a lot of photographs, mainly in the office. Pictures of his family, mostly his parents. They were beautiful people; Julian and Caroline were their names. Julian looked a lot like Logan, Kim decided. They both handsome and had the same facial features including the same smile, except Julian had dark brown hair. Caroline was blonde, like Logan, and had a shapely body with beautiful hands. Kim loved people with beautiful hands. Soft ones, with long fingers and shiny fingernails. Those hands were capable of anything, she decided. Those hands never handled any harsh chemicals or gotten dirty.

She imagined Caroline was everything her mother, Gracia, wasn't. Caroline followed ancient beauty regimens, like Cleopatra's milk baths and Marie Antoinette's chicken skin gloves. Caroline baked cookies with a bit of love in each one. Caroline attended PTA functions and school plays. Caroline attended parties where she always looked like a beauty queen.

Logan didn't realize how lucky he was, Kim thought, staring at a family portrait. What a beautiful family. What a beautiful life it must have been. His family had money…they probably went on sensational family vacations to all sorts of exotic places.

Kim also studied pictures of Max Guevara, the girl who could be Kim's twin. She began to wonder if dying her hair dark brown was a mistake and for a long time considered going back to her natural color.

They were alike in many ways, physically. Light in body weight with hard-earned muscle tone. Brown hair—curly and sort of short—with matching brown eyes. Roughly five and a half feet tall. Max too possessed a coy yet flirtatious smile, though they favored the classic sexy pout for most snapshots. The only large difference was, Max's lips always looked swollen. Kim wondered if they were like that naturally or it was a result of something, like a fight or plastic surgery. Kim had lip gloss that made her lips puff up slightly, but nothing like Max's. All other differences were subtle: Kim's breasts were a bit larger and her hips had a little more of a curve. Max's nose was longer while Kim's was more button-like.

This was all fine and good, but what Kim really wanted to know was what she was like. Sure she knew now from photographs and mirrors how she looked, but…what kind of music did she like? The more modern hip-hop or the classical like Bach and Mozart that Logan adored? Did she read books or tell jokes? What was her favorite color? Food? Who was her childhood hero? What made her happy and sad? Kim could answer these questions about herself quick as lightening but Max was a mystery to her. But who could she ask?

Kim floated through work ever since her relationship with Logan was blossoming into a real friendship, not even minding about the double shift she had to take because Sophie had to leave early in the afternoon. Her oldest child, Dominique, had contracted a stomach flu and needed to be taken home from school.

"I would have Seamus do it but he finally found a job," she said, in a hurry to rush out the door. "I don't want to have him being called out of work now. You don't mind covering, do you, Kim?"

"No," Kim said truthfully. "Not at all."

She would rather be at work than stuck taking care of children, she decided. But Sophie seemed to be happy about going home, despite the fact that she'd have to juggle Dominique, who was seven, sick in bed and then Jedidiah, her six-week-old baby. Between the two was poor Riordan, age three, who still needed help with everything. Kim had respect for Sophie and all she did to keep her head above water with three children.

I'm never going to have children, Kim thought to herself as she quietly hummed Minuet in G while she mopped the floor of the operating room where a bone marrow transplant had just taken place. What would I do with children? I mean, I haven't had a boyfriend in ages—who in hell would I marry?

But look at all these pregnant women who come here. It's contagious, I think. I mean, even that nurse Celeste Mitchell is pregnant.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Kim looked up from mopping and saw Doctor Jackson in the doorway. "Nope," she said. "Just finishing up."

"Good. I, uh, forgot my glasses here so I'll just…"

"You don't wear glasses, Doctor J," Kim smiled as she wrung out the mop. She wheeled the bucket out of the room.

"Oh, yeah, that's right…uh, why'd I come in here…?" Doctor Jackson paced the doorway.

"Either to bother me or ask me out," Kim winked. "How's Erica? I haven't had a chance to ask you in ages."

"Erica?"

"Yes, Erica. Your sister?"

Doctor Jackson shook his head, "I never told you about—"

"Small hospital, big ears, Doctor J."

"Big mouths to boot," he agreed. "Erica is…Erica. I'm sure you've been told all about her excursions, as flattering as they were. This time she's outdone herself." Doctor Jackson checked his watch. "Are you busy now?"

"Well, I've just gotta put the cart away. Other than that, no."

"Meet me in the lounge and I'll tell you the nitty-gritty story."

"Oh goody."

When Kim got to the lounge. Walker Jackson had already claimed an armchair and a can of Red Bull. There were a few others in the room—the nurses Lizzie Sherman and Veronike Kaspar were gossiping hungrily, Doctor Danielle Scarmozza chitchatting with the lab tech Roderick King and the 6-months-pregnant Celeste Mitchell taking a nap on the other arm chair.

"So, what's this about Erica?" Kim asked quietly in case he was uncomfortable talking about her in public.

"Well, like I said and I'm sure you've heard, she's sort of a problem child," Doctor Jackson began. "She drinks, she smokes, she goes to raves and bars and strip clubs, she has tawdry sex."

"Sounds like my kind of gal."

"No, not really. On top of all this, Erica loves to take dares. She'll jump off a roof into a swimming pool, she'll do as many shots as she can in fifteen seconds. She'll car surf, streak, you name it. Once she took a scooter and raced it down an ice-laden hill. She broke a couple of ribs and her arm and the competitor on the other scooter broke both his legs and sprained his neck, not to mention both suffered concussions. I can't tell you how many times I've saved her life."

"You don't have to tell me. I can imagine."

"What you saw last month, with the bloody footprints and all, well it takes the cake…Erica apparently had gotten pregnant and tried to give herself an abortion."

Kim's jaw dropped but she quickly closed it. "What?"

"She told me in confidence that she thought she was, so I had Doctor Caruthers examine her in private, out of the hospital. When it was positive, Erica practically hit the roof. She was about two months. She said right then and there, 'Walker, I want to get an abortion.' When I told her no, that this was something she had to see through as a punishment for her recklessness, she threw a hissy fit and then finally broke down in tears and beseeched me. I still outright refused. Erica needed to learn a lesson. After a lot of begging and pleading, she finally relented and agreed not to abort. It took a lot to keep her home, I'll tell you that. She still wanted to go out and party and do stunts!"

"Well, what happened?" Kim asked breathlessly. She had been practically holding her breath.

"She had done the only thing she thought was right: she took an abortion pill."

"You can still get those?"

"Erica said she had gotten them off of the black market. The only problem is, you can experience severe hemorrhages. And that's what happened to Erica. She started bleeding and, realizing that she had no car to get here, decided to walk from the house to Harbor Lights, the dumb kid."

"Is she okay at least?"

"Not really," Doctor Jackson shook her head. "She lost a lot of blood between the walking and the operation. I hope she's happy she's destroyed herself now."

"Destroyed herself?"

"The only way to stop the hemorrhages, Doctor Caruthers said, was to remove all of Erica's 'equipment', for lack of a better word."

It took Kim awhile to piece it together, but then it clicked: because of a stupid mistake, Erica could no longer have any babies. "How sad."

"It's hard to feel sad," Doctor Jackson said. "Because I tried to tell her that this was the only way she would learn, but no. Being Erica, she decided to take the easy way out. Seventeen and already her chances of living a normal life are screwed, if the drinking and drugs don't kill her first."

Kim could understand why Walker was so bitter about Erica, but she couldn't imagine how he could say something like that. She and Cal were close and whenever they quarreled, it was only a short-lived little spat. The relationship she had with him was almost out of a work of fiction, they got along so well. It was a tight bond they shared.

"Where is Erica now?"

"I haven't decided," Doctor Jackson replied. "Right now our aunt is watching her. I've restricted Erica to her room. Either she goes back to live with our parents or I put her in an institution, where she can be controlled." He took a few swallows of Red Bull. "Whichever I decide, she'll be out of my hair and I can focus more on my work here. Truthfully, I'm already looking into an institution for reckless teens in North Carolina, called the Meridian House. I'm taking a week off next month to visit it personally."

God. If my mother knew about places like this, she would have shipped me off ages ago and never let me come home, Kim thought. "Do your parents know about Erica doing stuff like this?"

"Only when I have to tell them. See, we're originally from Arizona. My parents sent Erica here to Seattle to go to boarding school and she stays with me at my apartment rather than the dorms, on my parents' insistence. They expect me to keep tabs on her. Of course I told them about her latest exploit and the operation and my mother cried hysterically. Erica was her last chance at grandchildren—she knows I'll never get married. My father was devastated. I don't think they can handle her right now, which is why the Meridian House is starting to look good."

Kim agreed. She decided she needed some fresh air, so she offered her apologies to Walker and exited the room, feeling sorrowful. On her way out the door, she bumped nose-to-chest with someone.

"Ow," she winced, rubbing her nose. She looked up into the cerulean eyes of Logan Cale. "Hi."

"Hi," Logan said. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just need a break. I'm working a double today. Sophie had to leave. What are you doing here? You never leave the penthouse."

Logan shrugged. "I got bored."

He looked flushed and Kim had her suspicions. She had a feeling he was still drinking but at least he wasn't slurring or swaying.

"You want to go out for lunch?" Logan asked suddenly.

Kim looked at Logan's Rolex. "It's three-thirty."

"Is it?" Logan checked the watch for himself, wondering why he bothered wearing that dumb thing. "Oh, it is. Well, I'm hungry. You still want?"

With a reserved smile, Kim nodded. "Let me just change out of my scrubs…I always keep a change of clothes in my locker. Wait here?"

"Sure."

She could have practically skipped. It was almost amazing how much she was able to transform Logan. Well, not really transform…but it was a start. At least now he was eating real food. Kim would often observe that he rarely ate and probably drank his meals most of the time. The cookbooks she'd purchased for him were still unused, she had noticed.

Kim quickly changed out of her scrubs, where the ankle cuffs were permanently splattered with blood and the knees were always dirty and faded. When she stepped out of the hospital after telling Georgia, the head nurse, where she was going, she felt like a normal person, not a hospital worker. She was wearing her favorite tight black jeans and a plain olive green baby tee. She slung her fringed leather jacket over her shoulder and tossed her hair and felt like a sophisticated college student going to a luncheon with her boyfriend.

"So where are we going?" Kim asked.

"I know a little place that's out-of-the-way. The head chef taught me everything I knew. He was a friend of my father's. Whenever I go there he offers me a job and I turn him down."

"Why?"

Logan shot her a look that made her go from sophisticated college student to dumb first-grader. "I don't like to leave the house a lot."

"Oh yeah, that's right."

The restaurant was indeed tucked away. It was called Holbrook and it was quite a walk, almost a mile and a half, to get there. Kim had to stop and rest once or twice but Logan never seemed to tire.

"I have a lot of energy," he answered quickly when Kim inquired.

At Holbrook, they were greeted by a short, round-ish man in a chef's coat. "Logan!" he said jollily. "What a nice surprise. I haven't seen you since, oh it must be almost a year now!"

"Afternoon, Kent," Logan shook hands with the man. "This is my friend Kim."

Kent shook Kim's hand, gently crushing all her fingers. He had a tight grip for a man of his size. She tried not to grimace.

"Here for a bite to eat?"

"Why else?"

"Ah-ha!" Kent laughed. "Well, come I'll get you your table."

Holbrook was nearly empty, with only three other tables in the dining room with couples. Kim began to feel uneasy.

"Logan, are you sure you won't consider a job here?" Kent asked as he handed them their menus.

"I'm perfectly happy with the work I'm doing now, Kent, but thanks."

After Kent left, it took a lot to keep Kim from laughing. "What other work do you do?" she asked curiously.

"Huh? Oh…that…it's just a-a line that I use to…to keep Kent at bay."

"Oh."

They ordered drinks (a white wine spritzer for Kim and a dry martini for Logan) from a waiter who looked very happy to see Logan as well.

"How are you feeling, Mister Cale?" he asked.

"Fine, fine, Troyal. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you haven't been in here since the accident so I figured—"

"I'm alright, Troyal, don't worry about me."

Accident? Kim's ears perked up. Was that how Max died? The gunshot was accidental?

When Troyal left, Kim felt she really had to ask or she'd explode, "What accident?"

Logan sighed. "I didn't realize having friends came with all these strings," he muttered. "A little over a year ago I was…shot. In the back. Four times. It ruptured my spine and confined me to a wheelchair. I use these things…it's called an exoskeleton." He pulled up his pant leg to just above the ankle to show her the machinery. "It helps me walk, jump, run, kick…basically use my legs again."

"That's pretty cool," Kim said, amazed. "So…was that the accident the waiter was talking about?"

"Uh…yeah, that's the short version of it."

"Well, what's the long version?"

Logan didn't want to elaborate, so instead he picked up the menu and opened it, "You should try their house salad. The dressing's spectacular."

"Logan," Kim reached for his hand. "I don't have to tell you twice I'm a sucker for long stories."

He pulled away, "I'd rather not go into nitty-gritty details, Kim. Just forget it."