Thanks for the great response to chapter 1!!!!! I really appreciate all
those who took the trouble to
review. Just to let you know, Inverness Road is fictitious.
Many thanks to Alaidh for the beta and all her helpful suggestions!!!!
Chapter 2
So far so good, thought Logan, letting out a long breath.
He was tenser about this than he would like to admit.
He'd had Max do some recon for him in this area a few weeks ago, and he remembered what her opinion of it had been - in fact it had made him feel bad that he'd sent her there.
Strangely enough, this area appeared almost deserted. A bit like rats fleeing a sinking ship, thought Logan, without humour.
No sane person entered this quarter of town unless they held a scant regard for their own safety. What category does that put me in? he wondered, checking the fuel gauge for the umpteenth time. The fuel light still glared at him balefully.
Inverness Road - said to be home to one of the worst gangs in Seattle, who were responsible for all manner of crimes. Some of their worst being random acts of violence were against innocent bystanders whose only mistake was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was onto this road that Logan now turned.
Heedless of speed restrictions, he drove hard; his only thought to get down that road as quickly as possible.
Unlike most Seattle streets, there were no pedestrians he had to avoid, no prostitutes advertising their wares to possible customers, and no one warming their hands around a fire blazing in a drum.
Only one lone figure staggered along the filthy sidewalk - apparently too drunk to think better of his decision.
Logan was just beginning to feel a little more hopeful that he'd get out of there, when without warning, the car coughed once, lurched, then stopped.
To Logan the silence was deafening.
Raising his eyes heavenward, with remarkable self-control he resisted the urge to yank the steering wheel from the dash, or some other act of violence, and wondered just what it was he had done to invoke the anger of every vengeful spirit in Seattle.
With another long sigh of frustration, he picked up his cell phone and turned it on, only to pause, regarding the device with some reluctance. The last thing he wanted to do was page Max and then have to explain how he'd got himself into this predicament, but he wasn't sure what other options he had. If only Bling were around. Feeling as though he had nothing to lose, he called his own apartment, just in case, and was surprised, but highly relieved to hear his trainer answer.
"Logan, where are you?" came the deep voice down the line.
Logan answered warily, "You know the cans of gas?"
"I know - you forgot them. Found 'em here when I got back. So, you stuck somewhere?"
In much the same tone as before, Logan said, "You know Inverness Road?"
The tone of Bling's "Yes" told Logan that the trainer was well acquainted with that particular road - the, "What are you doing there?" in a voice slightly raised with incredulity told him what Bling thought about him being in that particular road.
"Well obviously I wasn't out sight-seeing," was the sarcastic reply. "Can you take a cab and get the gas to me?"
"No way any cab'll go down that street. I'll send Max. She's here next to me."
"Max is there?" asked Logan with a sinking feeling.
"She's been trying to contact you. You had your cell turned off," he added slightly disapprovingly. He then quickly said, "Wait a minute."
Logan waited with the phone to his ear, the look on his face expressing more than words ever could.
Bling came back on, saying, "Max is out the door as I speak. She said to tell you to wait in the car, and lock your doors."
Invoking the power of the gods once again for patience, Logan managed to grind out admirably, "Gee, thanks Mom."
He couldn't see Bling's grin at the other end.
"Max said she'd be there in ten."
Logan raised his brows at that; she'd be breaking a few traffic rules herself to get there that quickly.
"Okay," he drawled back.
"I'll be by the phone if you need me," were Bling's parting words.
Putting his cell phone down, Logan did a quick check of his surroundings, and with an annoyed look, locked his doors. He wondered how long it would take to live this one down.
Logan checked the time - again. About 8 minutes had passed.
Time sure passed quickly when you were having fun!
The drunk was still making his erratic way up the sidewalk, and would soon be passing close by Logan's car. Somewhere the deep boom, boom, boom, of someone's music thumped through the night, making Logan think of a documentary he'd seen where ritualistic drumming accompanied some pagan sacrificial ceremony - "No, maybe it was the X-Files," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Startled, Logan looked up.
A face was leering at him through the window.
With relief, Logan saw it was the drunk, who looked even less appealing up close than he had from a distance. He seemed to be pantomiming the universal request of drunks everywhere - Can you give me a buck?
Sensing this would be the only way to be rid of the man, Logan turned the key once, then pushed the button to let down his window, his other hand going to his pocket to pull out his wallet, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he was assailed with the pungent smell of the man. Without a word, but with a look that said 'Don't press your luck,' he handed the man ten dollars.
In some unintelligible language, the man muttered his thanks and moved on. It was to be the last kind act he would receive in this life.
The man shambled on, and Logan was left alone again to his thoughts. Disconcertingly he found himself thinking of Val. He wondered if she was still sober. It still hurt to remember his own gullibility in letting her hurt him yet again when she'd shown up those weeks back. For a moment he was lost in memories of their unhappy union, only to be jolted back to the present by the sight of a single light, still some distance away, but heading in his direction down the long, straight road.
Max.
In spite of his earlier thoughts, he was relieved to see the light of her bike, and a small smile lit his face.
The drunk had staggered on another 100 metres, when to Logan's complete surprise, he saw him hurled into the air as if her were a puppet, and his mind strained to take in the fact that the building adjacent to where the drunk had been walking, was no more.
Ducking instinctively, Logan held his breathe as dust and debris rained down on his car, and the world seemed to turn black.
************
Max, with the two cans of gas strapped to her Ninja, turned onto Inverness Road, and with her remarkable eyesight was able to make out Logan's Aztec still some way down the road. "Logan Cale," she murmured with a shake of her head, "I'm gonna be puttin' the smack down on you for this!"
The next moment, with lightning fast reflexes, she squeezed hard on her front brake, then flung the bike to the left, in the same instant jabbing the rear brake, locking the wheels, and sliding to what, in the circumstances, was a remarkably graceful halt.
She could no longer see Logan's car. In desperation, she waited for the dust and debris to settle, flinching as she saw the body of a man hit the ground some 30 yards in front of her, his head, at an unnatural angle, advertising his fate.
Without regard for her own safety, the last of the debris and dust falling to the ground, she did a wide loop to avoid the worst of the fallout, and raced to Logan's car.
To her unimaginable relief, the car seemed to be intact, but the layer of dust on it was so thick she couldn't see in.
"Logan!" she called to him, wiping at the driver's window with her hand. "Logan!"
Still not quite able to see clearly inside, she could nonetheless make out his form in the car, and was contemplating ripping the door off when the driver's window opened.
"You're okay?"
Logan looked out at her, unharmed but a little dazed by the unexpectedness of the event.
"What the hell's goin on here?"
"I don't know, but I'm getting you outta here."
Logan couldn't see through the front windshield, so he only assumed she had gone to get the gas for the car.
In a minute she was back at his door. "Start the car," she said peremptorily.
"There was a drunk ..." began Logan, turning the engine over, relieved to hear it catch the second time.
"He's had his last drink," she answered bleakly, wiping at his front windshield, and removing some debris near his wipers. "There, you can go now."
"Max, we gotta check in there. Maybe someone needs help."
"I'll check; you drive," she answered implacably.
"I'll wait," was Logan's set reply.
Not wanting to waste time arguing with him, she turned and headed into the remains of the building. It had been an expert demolition job - the buildings either side were virtually untouched. The one that had collapsed appeared to have been a smallish two- storey warehouse. It had folded like a pack of cards.
Max didn't expect to find survivors. It was an ugly sight that met her eyes. The charge must have been placed in the very midst of the slain men - well she assumed they'd been men.
Going back to Logan she shook her head. "It's like they've been put through a blender."
Logan looked slightly ill.
"You've gotta get going, now!" Max admonished him again.
Realizing there was nothing he could do there, he acquiesced. "I'll see you back at my place."
************
Matt Sung headed towards the area where there'd been reports of on explosion. With some surprise, he recognized Logan's car just turning out of Inverness Road.
***************
Max strolled into Logan's apartment, just as he finished telling Bling of the evening's events.
"Well, that's one less dirt bag Eyes Only has to deal with," stated Max, coming in on their conversation.
Logan looked up at her in surprise.
"That's the building I did the recon on."
"It is?" Logan was surprised.
"You think it was some gang payback thing?"
"So that was the Marconi gang headquarters?"
Max nodded. "You bet yer linguine it is. What're you thinking?"
"I don't know what to think," Logan replied. "Eyes Only did the broadcast on them last week."
"On the bright side, less work for the courts."
"It's not how I like to see things pan out," replied Logan shortly.
"Whatever," replied Max, "but it seems to me if the scum are so set on blowin' each other up, who are we to say no?"
Logan simply looked up at her, clearly unimpressed by her logic.
Bling thought this would be a good time to take his leave. "Logan, don't forget you've got your follow up appointment with Sam in the afternoon. I'll be seein' ya."
"Tomorrow? I can't," said Logan abruptly, the words out of his mouth before he'd had a chance to think about it. He could feel Max's eyes on him. "I got plans."
"Change 'em," responded Bling, unmoved. "This is more important." And left before Logan had a chance to argue more.
At Bling's words, Max saw that familiar closed look come over Logan's face - the one he used when he didn't want her to know he was struggling with something.
Watching him closely she asked, "So, you wanna cook me dinner tomorrow night?"
He didn't look up at her immediately, absently running his hand over the metal rim of his chair.
Max waited for him.
Eventually he looked up to see her eyes regarding him. "Sure, sounds good," he managed to get out. "I'll do a pasta."
**************
"This has been a Streaming Freedom video brought to you via the Eyes Only network. Peace."
Feeling little of the satisfaction he usually felt after one of his broadcasts, Logan turned off the video equipment, and put the remote on the desk, having exposed the ugly dealings of one 'Antonio Rizzo' to the rest of Seattle.
" Hey Logan, it's me. Just callin' to see what you're up to. I'll see ya for dinner."
Max's voice rang through the apartment. Logan made no attempt to pick up the phone before she hung up, instead, with a slight look of irritation, he turned off the speaker, and left the messages to soundlessly record themselves.
He spent the rest of the morning by the window, moodily regarding the Seattle skyline through the driving rain, remembering the conversation he'd had with Sam the last time he'd seen him. "I'm getting out of that chair, Sam."
Well, he had, briefly, only Sam didn't know that, and now he had to face the humiliation of admitting to Sam that he'd been wrong.
He'd so desperately wanted to be right.
*******************
It was quite late by the time Logan returned from his appointment with Sam.
Max called to him from the kitchen. "Hey, Logan."
He wheeled in to see what she was up to.
"Well, you said we were having pasta, so I'm boiling the water." Logan thought he'd never seen anyone so intense about such a relatively simple commission.
"You do that," he okayed, as he wheeled through to put his keys on the hall table, and then followed through to the window where he gazed out distractedly.
Max, following, noted the small frown above his glasses.
"So, how'd it go? You pass with flying colours?"
"Something like that," he replied, not taking his eyes from the scene before him. The thought came to him that if he concentrated hard enough on the Seattle skyline, the other memories would be held at bay - the last time he'd seen Sam, full of hope, feeling the first awakenings of sensations in his legs which had been dead to him for 6 months. It hurt far too much to go back there. Easier if it had never happened than to have hope crushed so savagely.
God, it hurt.
Max watched him, his pain an ache in her as well, stirring within her feelings of guilt - it was her blood that had given him false hope. For those few days, "everything had seemed possible."
"Can I cut up some vegetables for you?" Max asked him, hesitant about intruding on his pain, yet knowing for his sake, she couldn't let him brood. "I want to help," she added, her voice full of meaning.
After a moments pause, he swung around to her and said, "Sure."
She risked a small smile at him.
Logan, feeling that he didn't think he could quite trust himself to look at her yet, said as he wheeled past her into the kitchen, "Maybe I can teach you a bit of kitchen savvy."
"Sounds dangerous."
He couldn't resist a small, smug smile. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing there was one thing he could do better than her.
The meal was delicious - as usual. Max helped Logan wash up and put the dishes away. His mood had not been as black as when he'd first come in, but she could see the mists had not totally disappeared. At various times she caught him with a faraway look, the small frown back.
"You up for some chess?" she asked, half expecting him to say no.
"Sure, sounds good."
"Mind if I re-arrange your furniture a little?" He smiled a little at her words, remembering a previous conversation.
Seeing as he didn't say 'no,' she moved the low table from its usual place in front of the couch, then picked up the chess set and table and set it within reach.
"Let's sit here for a change." As she spoke, she sat down, patting the space beside her, but the other side of the chess set.
He raised his eyebrows a minute then replied, "If you like."
While he was transferring, Max went to the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of wine they'd been drinking at dinnertime, and two clean glasses.
Her eyes lighted on his wheelchair, and on a sudden impulse said, "Out of sight, out of mind."
As soon as the words had left her mouth she wanted them back. What are you thinking? she cringed inwardly?
It surprised Logan to realize he'd been so transparent, or that Max could read him so well. He suddenly became aware of the weight that had been dragging him down ever since he'd returned from his appointment with Sam - well, to be truthful since Bling had reminded him of it the evening before. It irked him that he'd allowed himself to let it all in, yet again. It seemed like if you allowed one dark thought in, next minute you were drowning in a sea of them. Surprising even himself, he said, "Why not?"
With an inward sigh of relief, Max wheeled it into his computer room, returning with a provocative smile, "Now, let's see what you're made of."
Logan grinned, holding two chess pieces behind his back. "Your pick."
Several games later, Logan looked at Max, "I think you need some more wine."
Looking across she said, "The bottle's empty."
"I think you definitely need more."
"Why, you thinking if I'm tanked you've got more chance?"
"Well, it's worth a try,' he admitted, a hint of treachery in his eyes.
"Isn't that a little unscrupulous?" Max queried.
"All's fair in love and war," he quipped, using his own dangerously sexy smile.
Green eyes held hers - his words hanging tantalizingly in the air.
"Am I interrupting something?" a voice asked from the doorway, with thinly veiled derision.
Max looked up, startled. "Zack! What are you doing here?"
"I came to see how you were doin', Max." His look and tone softened as his eyes rested on her face.
"You normally only show up when someone's in trouble," Logan stated coldly - it was difficult to mask the resentment he felt towards the ex-Manticore soldier. He didn't try too hard.
"I wanted to check she wasn't caught up in this latest Eyes Only debacle." His own tone was no warmer than Logan's had been.
Logan searched his memory for a moment, but came up with nothing. "What're you talking about?"
"I thought you had your finger on the pulse of Seattle 24/7."
Logan felt a momentary stab of guilt at his words. He hadn't listened to any of his messages or checked any news on the net or TV the whole day, he'd been in such a funk about the appointment with Sam.
"Obviously not," Logan replied shortly, "so why don't you fill us in."
"Word is," and Zack looked directly at Logan as he spoke, "Eyes Only has become judge, jury and executioner, all rolled into one."
TBC
review. Just to let you know, Inverness Road is fictitious.
Many thanks to Alaidh for the beta and all her helpful suggestions!!!!
Chapter 2
So far so good, thought Logan, letting out a long breath.
He was tenser about this than he would like to admit.
He'd had Max do some recon for him in this area a few weeks ago, and he remembered what her opinion of it had been - in fact it had made him feel bad that he'd sent her there.
Strangely enough, this area appeared almost deserted. A bit like rats fleeing a sinking ship, thought Logan, without humour.
No sane person entered this quarter of town unless they held a scant regard for their own safety. What category does that put me in? he wondered, checking the fuel gauge for the umpteenth time. The fuel light still glared at him balefully.
Inverness Road - said to be home to one of the worst gangs in Seattle, who were responsible for all manner of crimes. Some of their worst being random acts of violence were against innocent bystanders whose only mistake was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was onto this road that Logan now turned.
Heedless of speed restrictions, he drove hard; his only thought to get down that road as quickly as possible.
Unlike most Seattle streets, there were no pedestrians he had to avoid, no prostitutes advertising their wares to possible customers, and no one warming their hands around a fire blazing in a drum.
Only one lone figure staggered along the filthy sidewalk - apparently too drunk to think better of his decision.
Logan was just beginning to feel a little more hopeful that he'd get out of there, when without warning, the car coughed once, lurched, then stopped.
To Logan the silence was deafening.
Raising his eyes heavenward, with remarkable self-control he resisted the urge to yank the steering wheel from the dash, or some other act of violence, and wondered just what it was he had done to invoke the anger of every vengeful spirit in Seattle.
With another long sigh of frustration, he picked up his cell phone and turned it on, only to pause, regarding the device with some reluctance. The last thing he wanted to do was page Max and then have to explain how he'd got himself into this predicament, but he wasn't sure what other options he had. If only Bling were around. Feeling as though he had nothing to lose, he called his own apartment, just in case, and was surprised, but highly relieved to hear his trainer answer.
"Logan, where are you?" came the deep voice down the line.
Logan answered warily, "You know the cans of gas?"
"I know - you forgot them. Found 'em here when I got back. So, you stuck somewhere?"
In much the same tone as before, Logan said, "You know Inverness Road?"
The tone of Bling's "Yes" told Logan that the trainer was well acquainted with that particular road - the, "What are you doing there?" in a voice slightly raised with incredulity told him what Bling thought about him being in that particular road.
"Well obviously I wasn't out sight-seeing," was the sarcastic reply. "Can you take a cab and get the gas to me?"
"No way any cab'll go down that street. I'll send Max. She's here next to me."
"Max is there?" asked Logan with a sinking feeling.
"She's been trying to contact you. You had your cell turned off," he added slightly disapprovingly. He then quickly said, "Wait a minute."
Logan waited with the phone to his ear, the look on his face expressing more than words ever could.
Bling came back on, saying, "Max is out the door as I speak. She said to tell you to wait in the car, and lock your doors."
Invoking the power of the gods once again for patience, Logan managed to grind out admirably, "Gee, thanks Mom."
He couldn't see Bling's grin at the other end.
"Max said she'd be there in ten."
Logan raised his brows at that; she'd be breaking a few traffic rules herself to get there that quickly.
"Okay," he drawled back.
"I'll be by the phone if you need me," were Bling's parting words.
Putting his cell phone down, Logan did a quick check of his surroundings, and with an annoyed look, locked his doors. He wondered how long it would take to live this one down.
Logan checked the time - again. About 8 minutes had passed.
Time sure passed quickly when you were having fun!
The drunk was still making his erratic way up the sidewalk, and would soon be passing close by Logan's car. Somewhere the deep boom, boom, boom, of someone's music thumped through the night, making Logan think of a documentary he'd seen where ritualistic drumming accompanied some pagan sacrificial ceremony - "No, maybe it was the X-Files," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Startled, Logan looked up.
A face was leering at him through the window.
With relief, Logan saw it was the drunk, who looked even less appealing up close than he had from a distance. He seemed to be pantomiming the universal request of drunks everywhere - Can you give me a buck?
Sensing this would be the only way to be rid of the man, Logan turned the key once, then pushed the button to let down his window, his other hand going to his pocket to pull out his wallet, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he was assailed with the pungent smell of the man. Without a word, but with a look that said 'Don't press your luck,' he handed the man ten dollars.
In some unintelligible language, the man muttered his thanks and moved on. It was to be the last kind act he would receive in this life.
The man shambled on, and Logan was left alone again to his thoughts. Disconcertingly he found himself thinking of Val. He wondered if she was still sober. It still hurt to remember his own gullibility in letting her hurt him yet again when she'd shown up those weeks back. For a moment he was lost in memories of their unhappy union, only to be jolted back to the present by the sight of a single light, still some distance away, but heading in his direction down the long, straight road.
Max.
In spite of his earlier thoughts, he was relieved to see the light of her bike, and a small smile lit his face.
The drunk had staggered on another 100 metres, when to Logan's complete surprise, he saw him hurled into the air as if her were a puppet, and his mind strained to take in the fact that the building adjacent to where the drunk had been walking, was no more.
Ducking instinctively, Logan held his breathe as dust and debris rained down on his car, and the world seemed to turn black.
************
Max, with the two cans of gas strapped to her Ninja, turned onto Inverness Road, and with her remarkable eyesight was able to make out Logan's Aztec still some way down the road. "Logan Cale," she murmured with a shake of her head, "I'm gonna be puttin' the smack down on you for this!"
The next moment, with lightning fast reflexes, she squeezed hard on her front brake, then flung the bike to the left, in the same instant jabbing the rear brake, locking the wheels, and sliding to what, in the circumstances, was a remarkably graceful halt.
She could no longer see Logan's car. In desperation, she waited for the dust and debris to settle, flinching as she saw the body of a man hit the ground some 30 yards in front of her, his head, at an unnatural angle, advertising his fate.
Without regard for her own safety, the last of the debris and dust falling to the ground, she did a wide loop to avoid the worst of the fallout, and raced to Logan's car.
To her unimaginable relief, the car seemed to be intact, but the layer of dust on it was so thick she couldn't see in.
"Logan!" she called to him, wiping at the driver's window with her hand. "Logan!"
Still not quite able to see clearly inside, she could nonetheless make out his form in the car, and was contemplating ripping the door off when the driver's window opened.
"You're okay?"
Logan looked out at her, unharmed but a little dazed by the unexpectedness of the event.
"What the hell's goin on here?"
"I don't know, but I'm getting you outta here."
Logan couldn't see through the front windshield, so he only assumed she had gone to get the gas for the car.
In a minute she was back at his door. "Start the car," she said peremptorily.
"There was a drunk ..." began Logan, turning the engine over, relieved to hear it catch the second time.
"He's had his last drink," she answered bleakly, wiping at his front windshield, and removing some debris near his wipers. "There, you can go now."
"Max, we gotta check in there. Maybe someone needs help."
"I'll check; you drive," she answered implacably.
"I'll wait," was Logan's set reply.
Not wanting to waste time arguing with him, she turned and headed into the remains of the building. It had been an expert demolition job - the buildings either side were virtually untouched. The one that had collapsed appeared to have been a smallish two- storey warehouse. It had folded like a pack of cards.
Max didn't expect to find survivors. It was an ugly sight that met her eyes. The charge must have been placed in the very midst of the slain men - well she assumed they'd been men.
Going back to Logan she shook her head. "It's like they've been put through a blender."
Logan looked slightly ill.
"You've gotta get going, now!" Max admonished him again.
Realizing there was nothing he could do there, he acquiesced. "I'll see you back at my place."
************
Matt Sung headed towards the area where there'd been reports of on explosion. With some surprise, he recognized Logan's car just turning out of Inverness Road.
***************
Max strolled into Logan's apartment, just as he finished telling Bling of the evening's events.
"Well, that's one less dirt bag Eyes Only has to deal with," stated Max, coming in on their conversation.
Logan looked up at her in surprise.
"That's the building I did the recon on."
"It is?" Logan was surprised.
"You think it was some gang payback thing?"
"So that was the Marconi gang headquarters?"
Max nodded. "You bet yer linguine it is. What're you thinking?"
"I don't know what to think," Logan replied. "Eyes Only did the broadcast on them last week."
"On the bright side, less work for the courts."
"It's not how I like to see things pan out," replied Logan shortly.
"Whatever," replied Max, "but it seems to me if the scum are so set on blowin' each other up, who are we to say no?"
Logan simply looked up at her, clearly unimpressed by her logic.
Bling thought this would be a good time to take his leave. "Logan, don't forget you've got your follow up appointment with Sam in the afternoon. I'll be seein' ya."
"Tomorrow? I can't," said Logan abruptly, the words out of his mouth before he'd had a chance to think about it. He could feel Max's eyes on him. "I got plans."
"Change 'em," responded Bling, unmoved. "This is more important." And left before Logan had a chance to argue more.
At Bling's words, Max saw that familiar closed look come over Logan's face - the one he used when he didn't want her to know he was struggling with something.
Watching him closely she asked, "So, you wanna cook me dinner tomorrow night?"
He didn't look up at her immediately, absently running his hand over the metal rim of his chair.
Max waited for him.
Eventually he looked up to see her eyes regarding him. "Sure, sounds good," he managed to get out. "I'll do a pasta."
**************
"This has been a Streaming Freedom video brought to you via the Eyes Only network. Peace."
Feeling little of the satisfaction he usually felt after one of his broadcasts, Logan turned off the video equipment, and put the remote on the desk, having exposed the ugly dealings of one 'Antonio Rizzo' to the rest of Seattle.
" Hey Logan, it's me. Just callin' to see what you're up to. I'll see ya for dinner."
Max's voice rang through the apartment. Logan made no attempt to pick up the phone before she hung up, instead, with a slight look of irritation, he turned off the speaker, and left the messages to soundlessly record themselves.
He spent the rest of the morning by the window, moodily regarding the Seattle skyline through the driving rain, remembering the conversation he'd had with Sam the last time he'd seen him. "I'm getting out of that chair, Sam."
Well, he had, briefly, only Sam didn't know that, and now he had to face the humiliation of admitting to Sam that he'd been wrong.
He'd so desperately wanted to be right.
*******************
It was quite late by the time Logan returned from his appointment with Sam.
Max called to him from the kitchen. "Hey, Logan."
He wheeled in to see what she was up to.
"Well, you said we were having pasta, so I'm boiling the water." Logan thought he'd never seen anyone so intense about such a relatively simple commission.
"You do that," he okayed, as he wheeled through to put his keys on the hall table, and then followed through to the window where he gazed out distractedly.
Max, following, noted the small frown above his glasses.
"So, how'd it go? You pass with flying colours?"
"Something like that," he replied, not taking his eyes from the scene before him. The thought came to him that if he concentrated hard enough on the Seattle skyline, the other memories would be held at bay - the last time he'd seen Sam, full of hope, feeling the first awakenings of sensations in his legs which had been dead to him for 6 months. It hurt far too much to go back there. Easier if it had never happened than to have hope crushed so savagely.
God, it hurt.
Max watched him, his pain an ache in her as well, stirring within her feelings of guilt - it was her blood that had given him false hope. For those few days, "everything had seemed possible."
"Can I cut up some vegetables for you?" Max asked him, hesitant about intruding on his pain, yet knowing for his sake, she couldn't let him brood. "I want to help," she added, her voice full of meaning.
After a moments pause, he swung around to her and said, "Sure."
She risked a small smile at him.
Logan, feeling that he didn't think he could quite trust himself to look at her yet, said as he wheeled past her into the kitchen, "Maybe I can teach you a bit of kitchen savvy."
"Sounds dangerous."
He couldn't resist a small, smug smile. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing there was one thing he could do better than her.
The meal was delicious - as usual. Max helped Logan wash up and put the dishes away. His mood had not been as black as when he'd first come in, but she could see the mists had not totally disappeared. At various times she caught him with a faraway look, the small frown back.
"You up for some chess?" she asked, half expecting him to say no.
"Sure, sounds good."
"Mind if I re-arrange your furniture a little?" He smiled a little at her words, remembering a previous conversation.
Seeing as he didn't say 'no,' she moved the low table from its usual place in front of the couch, then picked up the chess set and table and set it within reach.
"Let's sit here for a change." As she spoke, she sat down, patting the space beside her, but the other side of the chess set.
He raised his eyebrows a minute then replied, "If you like."
While he was transferring, Max went to the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of wine they'd been drinking at dinnertime, and two clean glasses.
Her eyes lighted on his wheelchair, and on a sudden impulse said, "Out of sight, out of mind."
As soon as the words had left her mouth she wanted them back. What are you thinking? she cringed inwardly?
It surprised Logan to realize he'd been so transparent, or that Max could read him so well. He suddenly became aware of the weight that had been dragging him down ever since he'd returned from his appointment with Sam - well, to be truthful since Bling had reminded him of it the evening before. It irked him that he'd allowed himself to let it all in, yet again. It seemed like if you allowed one dark thought in, next minute you were drowning in a sea of them. Surprising even himself, he said, "Why not?"
With an inward sigh of relief, Max wheeled it into his computer room, returning with a provocative smile, "Now, let's see what you're made of."
Logan grinned, holding two chess pieces behind his back. "Your pick."
Several games later, Logan looked at Max, "I think you need some more wine."
Looking across she said, "The bottle's empty."
"I think you definitely need more."
"Why, you thinking if I'm tanked you've got more chance?"
"Well, it's worth a try,' he admitted, a hint of treachery in his eyes.
"Isn't that a little unscrupulous?" Max queried.
"All's fair in love and war," he quipped, using his own dangerously sexy smile.
Green eyes held hers - his words hanging tantalizingly in the air.
"Am I interrupting something?" a voice asked from the doorway, with thinly veiled derision.
Max looked up, startled. "Zack! What are you doing here?"
"I came to see how you were doin', Max." His look and tone softened as his eyes rested on her face.
"You normally only show up when someone's in trouble," Logan stated coldly - it was difficult to mask the resentment he felt towards the ex-Manticore soldier. He didn't try too hard.
"I wanted to check she wasn't caught up in this latest Eyes Only debacle." His own tone was no warmer than Logan's had been.
Logan searched his memory for a moment, but came up with nothing. "What're you talking about?"
"I thought you had your finger on the pulse of Seattle 24/7."
Logan felt a momentary stab of guilt at his words. He hadn't listened to any of his messages or checked any news on the net or TV the whole day, he'd been in such a funk about the appointment with Sam.
"Obviously not," Logan replied shortly, "so why don't you fill us in."
"Word is," and Zack looked directly at Logan as he spoke, "Eyes Only has become judge, jury and executioner, all rolled into one."
TBC