He glanced over at her. He had placed her in the passenger seat of the transport truck, so he could keep an eye on her while he was driving. Apparently she was keeping an eye on him, too. She was "staring" at him, which, frankly, unnerved him. He was well aware by the blank, fixed look to her eyes that she probably didn't see him at all. He wondered if it was the particular drug combination that someone at Manticore had used to sedate her, or whether it was also, in part, due to her weakened state.
Max was entirely too thin, and her skin had the dull appearance of severe dehydration. Lydecker had seen her injuries in the field, back during the mission to take down Manticore's DNA lab, and knew that Manticore must have come up with a new heart for her, somehow. Even with her X5 regenerative capabilities, she would still be recovering from that, and any other injuries she had sustained over the past month or so.
All in all, not a good mix.
Ignoring the dull stare, he turned his attention back to the road, ignoring the stench of the bodies in the back of the truck. There had been no time to dump the corpses of the soldiers. It was imperative that they – well, he – kept his location steady with the path of the other convoy trucks, so as to not arouse the suspicion of whoever at Manticore was surely keeping track of this particular truck – Renfro, most likely. Bitch, he cursed briefly, allowing himself to enjoy that touch of hate for the woman who was slaughtering his children. At least one of them would be safe now.
The hunter protecting the hunted. Laughing at the irony in that, and feeling relief that Max's eyes had closed for the moment, he fished out his cell phone from inside his jacket pocket, praying that it was still untraceable.
~~~~~~~
Logan pounded on his keyboard in frustration. The new location of Manticore was remaining elusive. He had some good leads, including possible financial records at a Veterans Administration office, but so far nothing had panned out. He had debated long and hard about bringing in some outside assistance. He had friends among the S1W who would be more than willing to infiltrate the VA, but Logan finally decided it wasn't worth the risk to bring "outsiders" into his mission.
That didn't exclude people who were already in the mission, however.
He had placed a phone call to Lydecker yesterday. His stomach had rolled at the thought of bringing Max's biggest enemy into the mix, but he felt that doing so was his best bet. Even though the Colonel was AWOL from Manticore, Logan had no doubt he still had his sources. So now Logan was playing the waiting game, seeing if he could at least get the man to return his phone call.
Bling had stopped by earlier, but didn't stay long when he saw that Logan was…busy. Logan hadn't immediately divulged his mission to his former therapist; Original Cindy had been the one to tell him about it within a few hours of her and Logan's "chat." Bling had first grumbled about Logan being obsessed, but then conceded the fact that the man finally seemed energized about something for a change. He also took it upon himself to do some of the legwork that Logan couldn't, or refused, to do. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to help for much longer. He had accepted a position in Albuquerque that paid more than he could earn in Seattle. It would be foolish for him not to go, although he would still worry about his friend.
Logan was not completely oblivious to the fact that Bling would soon be gone from his life, but he didn't choose to think about it much, either. When the day came, he would face it. Until then, he had other things on his mind.
Logan pushed thoughts of Bling aside and returned his focus to the task at hand. After a few more forceful taps, he was able to coerce his computer to perform some of the tasks he was attempting. Luckily, they were some of the most important functions. He had successfully cracked the uplink sequences to one of the still functional television satellites that broadcast to the Seattle area. One of his ground wire cable hacks wouldn't be enough for what he needed. He wanted as many people to get the strongest signal possible. He uploaded a test message, and sat back. The connection failed within two minutes.
He sighed. He had been worried about that. It would most likely take frequent uploading and re-uploading to get the intended message out in the first place, and then much more additional hack-work to get the message to transmit from the satellite to the networks. But at least he had a start. Now, if he could just get that location…
The shrill ring of the telephone broke his concentration. Logan glared at it for a few seconds before deciding to give in and answer. "What?" he answered gruffly. The voice that replied nearly caused him to drop the phone.
"So you want to know about Manticore?"
Logan blinked, trying to regain his senses. "Lydecker?" he managed to ask.
The irritated voice on the other end provided confirmation. "We don't have time for the pleasantries, son. They've probably already got a lock on my position as it is."
"Then, yes, of course." Logan couldn't believe his ears. He was being handed his dream on a silver platter. A small voice told him that he shouldn't trust this good-will gift, but he decided it was better not to look gift horses in the mouth…even gift horses from Trojans.
"Manticore has decided to consolidate at a facility about an hour southwest of Seattle," Lydecker informed him.
Logan frantically scribbled the information down on a scrap of paper, even though he knew it was burning itself into his brain with every word. That close. To be that close…close enough to reach out and touch. He owed Lydecker everything now. "Th—"
"She's not there," Lydecker interrupted.
Logan's heart stopped. All of this time…to come so close…only to find out she's…she's…
"We're on our way into Seattle. Can you get us passed through the sector checkpoints?" Lydecker continued urgently.
We? Oh, God… He didn't dare hope. "I think so. Where are you coming in?"
"10."
"Lydecker…can I…?"
Lydecker cut him off. "Wait for my call when we're in."
Logan heard a click, and then the line went dead. He took a couple of shallow breaths, trying to get his heart back to its normal rhythm. "We" could realistically be anyone. Zack was missing as well, after all. But even though Logan had only had limited experience with Lydecker, he knew the man well enough to know that the Colonel wouldn't be contacting him with news about Zack.
He took another deep breath to steady himself, and pushed off hard on his wheels in the direction of the exoskeleton. He needed to be prepared for whatever would come next.
~~~~~~~
She was drifting somewhere in the fog of the present. The feeling was strange, like she was somehow bound by her own mind. She had moments where she thought she could grasp onto some image swiftly passing through her mind, but even those fleeting scraps were soon gone, and she was floating again.
There had been a voice for a while, familiar in a way, but frightening in the coldness that went with it. She finally decided that she couldn't hear it anymore, and the voice left. She wished she could hear the other voice again…
What other voice? the creature sitting next to her asked.
She closed her eyes to look at it. For some reason, the creature didn't frighten her, although she felt like it should. It was strange to see a man's head on a lion's body. It swung its spiked tail lazily back and forth. That other one that was here before, she told it, frowning as she tried to remember when exactly before was. He knew who I was.
The creature shrugged. Does it really matter who you were before? Shouldn't it matter who you are now?
She frowned. I'm 4…
The creature growled and walked over to sit on her shoulder. That's what They said you are. Who do you say you are?
I don't know. Maybe that other voice could help me…
~~~~~~~
Lydecker breathed a little more easily now that they were through the sector checkpoint – and in a different vehicle, one without corpses. Logan had been true to his word, and managed to get them through the checkpoints without question. Lydecker drove the sedan they were now in slowly up to a checkpoint, and flashed his ID up to the window, risking the chance that one of the sector police at the border might be affiliated with his former employers. He breathed a sigh of relief as an Asian man who wasn't wearing a uniform noted him holding the ID, and slowly walked up to the car. Lydecker rolled down his window.
"Good afternoon, sir," the man said after a quick glance at the ID. "I've been waiting for you. I'm sure you'll be glad to get back into uniform after such a long plainclothes mission."
Lydecker smiled. It was a weak story…but it would do. "Of course. I'll be much more comfortable back behind a desk. But you know how the superiors are – sending the big boys out when a couple of non-coms would be much better." The two men knowingly looked at each other. "Your name, officer?"
"Detective Matt Sung, sir," Matt greeted. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have a few more questions before I can pass you through."
"Go ahead, Detective."
"Are you transporting any hazardous materials back with you?"
"Just my sidearm."
Sung looked in the car, and Lydecker saw his gaze flicker slightly as he glanced from the front to the back. "I don't see any additional passengers. Are you traveling alone?"
Cale's man or not, Lydecker preferred to keep some things to himself. "Yes," he said shortly.
Sung's eyebrows rose a bit as he asked, "And where will you be staying while you're in town, sir?"
Lydecker shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but in reality impatient to keep moving. "Currently classified, even to myself. I hope to be contacting my direct…superior…soon for debriefing."
Sung nodded, understanding the translation: no clue. He turned and waved to one of the other officers, and the barrier at the gate lifted. "Welcome to Seattle."
Lydecker slowly pulled away from the gate, resisting the urge to floor the gas. He had been afraid that one of the sector cops would have wanted to search the trunk. He laughed as he wondered what they would have thought when they saw the "body" he had stashed in there.
Welcome to Seattle, the Detective had said. But now that they were in Seattle, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Max needed medical attention, but taking her to a hospital was too risky. Since she was stable, in an unstable sense, he decided it would be best to leave her where she was for the few hours it would take until he found a place to set up base.
~~~~~~~
"Look, Logan, I'm telling you, she wasn't in there."
"She had to be!" Logan nearly yelled in disbelief.
"Logan," Matt said, hoping the sternness of his voice would get through to the man. "Lydecker was in a large vehicle, easy to see into. The passenger seat and the back seats were clear. He told me there wasn't anybody else with him."
Logan was silent, not sure what to think. On one hand, he was inclined to trust Lydecker at face value. On the other hand…well, he wasn't inclined to trust him either. "Did he say anything else?"
Matt sighed, knowing Logan hadn't really wanted to hear what he had to say. He didn't know why Logan hadn't thought that this man would have Max with him anyway. "Basically, that he didn't know where he was going yet. I'd say that he's going to call you soon."
"Thanks for your help, Matt," Logan said half-heartedly. "It was worth a shot." He hung up, wondering what he was going to do now.
~~~~~~~
They put her back in the box!
Max looked around frantically, trying to figure out why she was in the box again. Her stolen heart burned in her chest as it beat faster and faster. But she could move. Her weak legs were now trying to take her body somewhere. There was a bright flash of sunlight, a noise, and darkness again. All became quiet, and she let the sound of the water lull her to sleep.
~~~~~~~
Logan was startled from sleep by the ring of his telephone. He looked around in a moment of confusion, not realizing he had drifted off. He stood up from the couch and took a few unsteady steps towards the cordless telephone. Grabbing it, he brought the receiver to his ear, wincing as he half hit his head with it. "What?" he asked.
Silence.
Logan blinked, rubbing the grit out of his eyes. "Hello?" There was some sort of dawning realization as his brain caught up to the present. "Lydecker?"
Silence.
Logan quickly carried the receiver over to his computer, glad to see it was still on. He briefly looked at the computer clock, and saw that it was only about 5:30 in the evening. He carefully listened through the phone. It was what he wasn't hearing that was concerning him the most. Even though there was no response, the line hadn't closed. He quickly set up a number trace program. Like Lydecker had said, it was a secured line, but Logan was able to get through fairly easily and confirm his suspicions. "Must be in trouble to be calling me," Logan murmured as he began trying to trace a location to the signal. "Sure as hell didn't bump speed dial to get me."
Within fifteen minutes, he had managed to narrow the signal down to some abandoned warehouses near some of the older docks in Seattle. He ran to the elevator and hit the button for the garage. When it opened on level P1, he walked as quickly as he could out to his Aztek, glancing in the rear to make sure his spare chair was in the back – just in case – and spun his tires as he sped out of the garage.
Down at the docks, the hairs on his neck began to stand on end at the eerie silence of the place. He slowly drove around a few of the warehouses, trying to spot Lydecker, whatever he was driving, or any sign of anything, all the while attempting to look casual to anybody who might have been watching. After a few minutes, he finally saw a sedan seemingly abandoned near the far corner of one of the buildings.
Logan parked the Aztek at a distance, not entirely sure what the situation was. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the 9mm he had stashed there. He checked to make sure it was loaded, and stepped out of the car. He approached the scene slowly, looking at every angle he possibly could, unable to see anybody from a distance. He called out, "Colonel!" with no response. As he got closer, he saw something near the front of the sedan.
An arm.
He rushed over and around the front of the sedan, and stopped short. Lydecker was lying on the ground, one hand above his head, reaching for a cell phone that was mere centimeters away from his outstretched fingers. The other clutched his stomach. Logan could see that blood had poured out from several large bullet wounds and was now coagulated in large pools on the ground. There was a rather stunned look on Lydecker's face, as though whoever had shot him had surprised him.
Stupid, Cale, Logan thought to himself as he bent down to pick up the cell phone. Like getting shot wouldn't normally be a surprise. He saw his home phone number on the display, and turned it off. He looked at Lydecker's body one more time, and then slowly sank down towards the ground, putting his head on his knees. Hot tears burned his eyes as the realization that this was the end hit him. Lydecker had been his last real chance at finding Max, or finding out what had happened to her. Now the dream was truly shattered.
Help me.
Max's voice from his dreams echoed through his mind. It seared his heart, remembering how she had begged him to help her.
"Help me."
Logan's head snapped up at the weak call. He scrambled to his feet as fast as the exoskeleton would let him, shoving the cell phone in his pocket. For one of the longest minutes in his life, Logan listened to the sounds of small waves slapping against the docks. Desperately afraid that it had been his imagination, he called as loudly as he could manage, "Where are you?"
There was more silence, and then he heard very faintly, "I'm right here. Please. Why aren't you looking?"
"Oh, God," he gasped, pressing his face against the driver's side door of the sedan. He didn't see her. Moving to the rear seat window, he called again as he looked, "Max!"
"I'm right here."
Logan slowly turned his head and froze, his blood running cold. He slowly walked to the trunk. He tapped on the top. "Max?"
A pause…and there was a tapping from within. "Help me," was the faint reply.
Logan raced back to the Aztek, cursing his caution for parking so far away. The thought of trying to shoot out the lock had briefly crossed his mind, but luckily some piece of sense told him that he might end up shooting Max in the process. He quickly opened the rear hatch, pushing his spare wheelchair out of the way as he rummaged through all the assorted crap he had stored under a rug until he found his tire iron, and then raced back to the sedan.
"Max! Max, I'm here! I'm here, Max, don't give up on me," he urged as he tried to get the slim edge of the tire iron hooked under the edge of the trunk. He strained, trying to wedge it open. Finally, he managed to hook it right, and he stepped back as the trunk lid swung open. He looked inside…tears welled up in his eyes at the sight.
She was there. She was really there. But she was as pale and still as a corpse. A sob caught in Logan's throat as he reached down to touch her, to caress her head. He gently ran his fingers over the short stubble, which had been long, thick locks the last time he had seen her. He felt sorrow at the thought that Manticore had stolen so much from her – even this simple thing. He brought his fingers down to touch her lips, which were dry and cracked.
Her eyes flew open.
Logan jerked his hand back as though he were burned. She was…he bent down to look in her eyes. They were empty…no trace of a once vibrant woman. "Max?" he whispered.
"I'm right here," she murmured, almost reflexively. "Don't you know me?"
The words from his dream…
His mind raced as he tried to decide what to do. He couldn't tell how badly she was injured. He didn't see any blood seeping through the grey fatigues she wore, but obviously, something was wrong. If he moved her, he could do more damage. But what could he do? Call the paramedics? He knew that would be as bad a move as any. He knew he had to make a decision quickly. "Max," he said loudly, not really expecting a reaction, "I'm gonna get you out of here. Just hold on."
Logan said a quick prayer, slid his hands under her, and gently lifted her out of the trunk. He felt like he was lifting a pillow or something; she was extraordinarily lightweight, and there was a boneless, limp feel to her body. As he moved away from the car, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, but decided to get Max in the Aztek first. He cringed as he took a few squeaking steps. He hoped that wasn't a sign the exoskeleton was about to give out. There couldn't be worse timing.
Max stared vacantly at Logan as he shifted her weight to open the passenger door, and then settled her into the seat. As he pulled the seatbelt across her stomach, he accidentally bumped her with his hand. She groaned softly, and he looked up at her face to see her wincing. His brows knit as he wondered what had caused her reaction. "I'm sorry," he apologized, not knowing whether she even understood him.
"S'okay," Max gasped. She closed her eyes and murmured, "I kicked a foot."
Logan was baffled at Max's sudden responsiveness. Her choice of wording seemed awfully strange, though. He looked at where he had bumped her, and gently tugged her shirt out from where it was tucked in her pants. He lifted her shirt and sighed at the gigantic purple and blue marks spread across her ribs. He realized that Max must have really meant that she was kicked by a foot, but somehow the words had gotten garbled in her brain. Brain damage? He shook his head, and decided it was time to get out of there. He shut the door and took two steps towards the driver's side before remembering the trunk.
I should be getting Max out of here…he was telling himself even as he kept walking back to the car. He looked inside the trunk…and saw a gun. He felt all the blood rush out of his head as he reached in to pull it out. He looked back to the Aztek and to Max. His brain was reeling with the implications of the gun. He briefly looked inside the car, but didn't see anything else out of place. He took a deep breath, and walked back to where Max was waiting. As he turned the key in the ignition, he looked at Max one more time before pulling away.
Sightless eyes stared back at him.
~~~~~~~
Dr. Beverly Shankar was packing up to leave for the evening when her phone rang. She briefly debated just letting it ring, but noticed that the caller ID was a familiar number. "Hello?"
The voice on the end sounded relieved. "Thank God you haven't left yet. I'll be at the morgue in three minutes. Can you stay and help me?"
Dr. Shankar's brow furrowed at the urgency in his voice. "Sure, Logan. What do you need help with?"
"I have a body for you."
"A body? Logan, what…?" she asked, but he had already hung up the phone.
A few minutes later, she found out. She held open the bay door as Logan gently carried Max inside. She was stunned enough at the fact that he was up and walking, but Max soon distracted her from that musing. "Logan, what the hell is going on?" she asked, feeling for Max's pulse. It was much too slow, but it was there.
"She's hurt," he responded. "I need you to help her."
Dr. Shankar just shook her head as she held open one of the inner doors, grateful that most of the employees had cut loose for the night, not wanting to stay a minute past shift. She directed him into the crypt, even as she was telling him, "Logan, if you haven't noticed, this is the morgue. She should be in a hospital."
"You do pro bono work at the Helman Clinic," Logan pointed out as he settled Max on a free gurney. "And she can't be in a hospital."
"Logan…" she began, but stopped at the anguished look on his face.
Logan leaned over Max, and gently stroked her face. "She's an important informant of Eyes Only."
Yeah, right, Beverly thought. She's important to you. "What can you tell me?" she asked him as she moved to one of the cabinets, looking to see what she had that could be used on living bodies.
Logan shook his head. "Not much. She's been…missing for two months. I found her in the trunk of a car about 20 minutes ago."
Dr. Shankar turned to look at him. "A trunk? How did you find her?"
"Not quite sure. The man she was with was dead." Logan hesitated and decided that was enough.
Dr. Shankar moved back over to Max with a tray of assorted instruments. She held up a light to Max's eyes. She frowned when Max's pupils seemed not to react at first, and then dilated. "Max, can you follow the light?" she asked, not expecting a response.
"No," Max said softly.
The doctor jerked away from Max and looked at Logan in astonishment. Logan shook his head and shrugged. "She did that to me a couple of times on the way here. I'm really not sure she's totally aware of what you ask her, but her answers are too…correct to be random.
"I don't see any head wounds," Beverly said, running her fingers over the stubble of Max's hair, "but it could be brain damage from some old wounds, or oxygen deprivation, or it could be something else entirely. I'd need to do an MRI to be certain, but I can't do that here." She picked up one of Max's hands and felt the papery skin. "She's severely dehydrated, so it could be a residual of that."
She looked up at Logan. "I need you to go to the clinic and pick up a few things for me. I'll call ahead, so all you'll need to do is go to the front desk and they'll have the stuff ready."
"Do you do that often?"
She nodded, understanding his concern. "Not unusual for them to get calls from me for the occasional supplies. I reciprocate from here when I can. While you're gone, I'm going to see if I can scrounge up Gib, one of the lab techs here, and see if we can run a few fast blood tests. I trust him, Logan," she added, forestalling that objection. She put her hand on his arm. "She'll be okay, Logan. I promise."
He took a deep breath, nodded, and then walked out the door.
As she watched him go, she realized she hadn't asked him about his legs. She turned back to Max. "Don't suppose you can tell me about that, could you?"
"Nope," Max said.
Beverly looked at her for a few seconds, trying to think about what exactly could cause that reaction, and then turned to the wall phone. She first dialed an intercom number. She was answered by a loud blast of music. "Gib, you still here?"
"Shanks!" was the cheerful call over the heavy beat. "'Course I am. I live here! What are you still doing here?"
"Same, Gib. Listen, can you come down to the crypt? I need some help with some stat lab tests."
"Rightyo, Shanks," he said, not even questioning for who or why. "On my way."
"Thanks." She hung up the line, and then picked it up once more and dialed a familiar number.
"Helman Clinic. Margie speaking."
"Margie? It's Bev Shankar. I need a favor…"
About an hour later, Max was asleep on the gurney and Beverly was reading a few papers when Logan walked back in with a bag. She looked up from the papers and smiled. "I take it they didn't hassle you?"
Logan shook his head as he sat the bag on a nearby counter. "No, they were pretty nice. How's she doing?" He walked over to Max's side, again struck by the extreme difference from two months ago to now.
Dr. Shankar sighed. "She's stable," she began. "I've found evidence of some trauma." She hesitated a moment. "Logan, did you know Max had a heart transplant?"
He closed his eyes and took a breath. "I'd suspected. The last time I saw her, she'd been shot. She was…she was…dead."
Dr. Shankar walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Logan."
He shrugged her off. "It's okay. She's back. So, what's wrong with her now?"
The doctor walked over to the bag, and pulled out a saline bag. She touched Max's arm gently to locate a vein, and quickly swabbed it before inserting the needle. "Her injuries are actually fairly minor," she began.
"Minor?!" Logan waved a hand over Max's prone figure. "This is minor?"
Dr. Shankar felt like sending him out on another run. This was the reason she didn't want him around during her initial examination. "Logan," she said sternly as she rooted through the bag for a blood pressure gauge. She expertly began to take Max's blood pressure. "Compared to a heart transplant, it is minor. She's very dehydrated, but that can be easily fixed. The other problems…she has a few broken ribs, minor bruising and lacerations in other areas of her body. That's pretty much it."
"So why is she…?"
Beverly held out the papers to him, hoping he would focus on those for a second and not on his fear and concern. "We found the presence of three different sedatives in her system, along with a hallucinogen, and a few other more questionable substances. The sedatives are causing the extreme lethargy you have seen, and possibly some of the confusion, although I think the hallucinogen may be mostly responsible for that. The combination of the above also seems to make her somewhat susceptible to suggestion. Which could explain some of the times she's actually 'responded' to our questions."
"Manticore was probably beginning to reprogram her," he murmured as he tried to read the gibberish on the printouts. "Can you give her anything to help her?"
She shook her head. "It'll be better for her if she comes out of it on her own. It'll probably be slow, and she may be a little confused for a while, but she will come out of it." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Logan, this is just the physical. I have no idea what she's facing mentally."
"She's facing a nightmare," he whispered. He looked at Beverly, and she could see the indecision in his eyes.
"I'm not going to ask," she told him. "Whatever happened, it's not for me to know."
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Beverly could see the sheer gratitude in his look. "I can't tell you what this means to me."
Not to Eyes Only…to him. "Not often I get to see someone half dead leave the morgue half alive," she said in a blasé tone.
Logan gently began caressing Max's face again, running his hand up her cheek, to the remnants of her hair, and then back down. "Can she be moved?" he asked.
The doctor shrugged. "Normally, I would say that I prefer she not be moved until she's more conscious, but I don't know how long that will take. And she can't stay here."
"I'll take that as a yes," Logan decided. "Let me know the earliest we can leave."
"The drip is nearly finished. As soon as that's done—"
The shrill ring of a cell phone cut through the air. Logan reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "Bling," he said. He vacillated for a second before handing it to Beverly. "Don't answer it. After we leave, take it to the Duwamish and throw it in."
"What? Logan…"
"It's safer for him and for us."
She understood. They were going to run. "Where will you go?" she asked.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Somewhere. Anywhere. As far as we can go away from here."
"How will you get past the sector police?"
"I've got an emergency stash in the Aztek. I've got a couple of passes that will get us over the Seattle borders. Money for bribes, food, gas…" he walked away from Max and over to the doorway, looking out into the hall. "It'll be tough, but it's the only way. Max can't be here in this condition. Not if they're looking for her."
Beverly smiled and nodded. "If you need anything, call." Her eyes widened as she remembered his order. "You can have my cell," she offered, turning to go get her purse from her office.
Logan stopped her. "No need." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another. "I've got a friend's. It's untraceable…for the most part. I'll just program your number in, in case of emergency." He turned on the phone, and began to scroll though the speed dial list. He laughed shortly as a familiar number appeared. "What do you know? He did have my number on speed dial."
Beverly gave him the number as she checked the saline drip, and removed the needle. "She's ready," she told him. "Are you?"
He nodded. Almost as an afterthought, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a gun, passing it to Dr. Shankar. "Hold on to this for me, would you?"
She held it like she was holding a dead rat. "Sure," she agreed, deciding more details weren't really necessary. She instead decided to ask something else that had been on the tip of her tongue. "Logan, how…?" She indicated his legs.
Logan smiled, and raised one of his pant legs. Beverly could see some metal bars extending down over his boots. "A gift from a friend," he said vaguely. "I got it right before Max…" He paused, laying a hand gently on Max's sleeping form. "I couldn't lift her then. Even with the exoskeleton, my legs weren't strong enough yet that I could pick her up off the ground. Since then, it's helped me develop more muscle mass. Enough that I can now." He smiled at Dr. Shankar. "Thank you for all of your help. We owe you…everything."
He then slid his hands under Max. Gently picking her up, he asked hypothetically, "Any place in particular you're wanting to go?"
He nearly laughed when she sighed and answered, "Seattle."
"I should have guessed. Anywhere else?"
"Anywhere else," Max parroted before settling again.
Beverly watched Logan walk down the hallway, carrying Max carefully in his arms, and hoped she would see them again.
~~~~~~~
Part 3 - coming December 16