DISCLAIMING DEPARTMENT: Characters and such and belong to Messrs. Cameron, Eglee, & Fox. Nice of them to make them up. We'll treat them with care.
THANKS ONCE AGAIN–your comments and encouragement are so appreciated. I hope they keep coming; they have helped me get a sense of what works & what doesn't.
THE TIME has now established itself at ten days post-"411 on the DL"
CHAPTER ONE:
FOGLE TOWERS
As had happened more times than he liked, Logan Cale counted the number of hours that had gone by with his nose in the computer by the twinges in his shoulders and the growling hollow in his stomach, empty of anything but caffeine. But a project that had eluded him for many months was up and active again with some newly found information from an informant working at the state commissioner's office. Thousands of dollars that should be used toward the restoration of dependable public services, clean hospitals and honest police had been syphoned off into the personal accounts and burgeoning pockets of a handful of corrupt officials.
Finally, the proof he needed to publicize the bastards was coming together, and he realized with a wave of excitement that if he could get into the physical files within the commissioner's office for the last link in the data chain he could get the word out and maybe even stop the funds' drain. Staring hard at the scrolling data to determine which files he would need and where, his hand reached out of habit and, not looking away from the screen, started punching in Max's number...
But he stopped, straightening momentarily, his hand hovering mid-number, before dropping back to the keypad to cut off the call. He could use Max's help, but didn't need it; the Informant Net actually had two other people with access to the materials he needed. And the past ten days had been hard on Max... he didn't need to make matters worse.
Logan pulled off his glasses to stretch and roll his neck tiredly, then sat unmoving, thoughts now fixed on Max. Her life since escaping Manticore had been focused on reuniting with the only "family" she knew, those others raised with her in the government's foray into playing God. She had ached to stay with the others, but Zack, commander at age 12, ordered them to separate, and ever since then Max was determined to find them. How devastating for her to find then lose Zack in mere hours, to learn that he felt it more important to keep moving than to keep in touch–and to know he held the secret of where to find the others and would not tell her.
Over the past week and a half she had tried to play it off and to act as if it didn't bother her, but Logan knew–not only had he understood how important it had been to her and for how long, but he could see the layer of vulnerability it left. Max had been so certain that the key to her life was finding her Manticore siblings–and when she found one and the world was still broken, it became, at least for the moment, a darker and scarier place.
He wished he could make the pain go away for her–and wished he could help her see that the family she had now–Original Cindy and the others...himself...were more important than the ghosts of the past. He'd see if he might find a way...but 'til then, he'd not call her for the little things others could do. She needed time away from life's uglier side, and he'd give her a reprieve as long as he could.
He straightened again and looked back to the files unfolding before his eyes. Maybe she'd get past it soon....
SPACE NEEDLE
Max sat on the domed ledge and looked over the city, nearly silent even to her keen hearing at this height. It was late, but she knew Logan would still be up. She hadn't heard from him that day and she thought about swinging by to see what he'd been doing–probably the project in which his nose had been buried for the past few days. He kept her out of the loop on this one; she didn't think he was exactly hiding anything from her but there was something he wasn't saying.
She sighed. Logan had been so hurt by his ex-wife scamming him into thinking she actually had a heart –the bitch had some sense of timing, that was for sure. Logan would have been hurt and ashamed by falling for her "one day at a time" act any time, but didn't she get that the man's self-image was still fragile from having a bullet shatter his spine not all that long ago?
...Max suspected that Val knew exactly how fragile he was...
Max closed her eyes and imagined the scene if she did go over to see Logan. Other than offering again to do some work on his file, she was at a loss to know how to help. She knew he was throwing himself into this EO project so he'd be too engrossed–or too tired–for his thoughts to have time to fester. She would offer her assistance and he'd smile, thank her...and decline.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, she hugged them close. She missed the Logan who could relax and have hope in the world he worked so hard to save. And she felt helpless to know how to find him...
JAM PONY, the following day.
Max had already made three runs before 10:00 a.m., uncharacteristically quiet even when Normal pointed it out to her. She went up to her locker to fish out an apple–one she still had from those Logan sent with her, from the market–and bit into it, deep in thought. Original Cindy saw her and came up to mother her. "C'mon, boo, what's got you so down? Original Cindy can't take many more days like this."
"'S nothing" she muffled through the apple. "Just thinking."
"Uh-huh." OC nodded, not buying a moment. "Sit"
Max wavered, looking skeptical, but Original Cindy glared her into a seat on the bench. "Now listen. I don't need to be all up in your stuff, but you do know that Original Cindy's here, she's heard it all, she's your boo and wants you to stop moping–so what can she do?"
Max sat beside her for a few moments, considering her, before relaxing into a smile. "She can do just what she did now–be a friend" she leaned in to nudge Original Cindy with her shoulder. "Thanks"
"That's all? You sure?" OC asked.
"Sure." Max smiled.
"Max!!" Normal's voice cut through. ""Front and center"
"Or maybe you could stick a sock in Normal" Max rolled her eyes at Cindy, offering a weary grin.
"You got that right" OC stood to dig in her own locker. "Whatever I can do, boo."
"Thanks" Max smiled, and went to the desk, palm out & up in a bored sweep. "What this time?"
"Not a run–one for you" Normal looked at the package in his hands and lifted the lot to Max, who took the bulky envelope.
"What is it?" She frowned.
"One way to find out. Hurry up; no service fee, no loitering. You can drool over it later."
Max snorted softly and, turning the envelope over in her hands, walked apart across the open entry area and pulled open the flap. As the contents tumbled out, Max's chest tightened and she gasped...
She held a scrap of fabric, a slip of paper and a photograph. Her hands nearly shook as she turned them over: the fabric was a faded square of rough camouflage fabric, the pattern and color distinctively recognizable as being from the only clothing she was given to wear for more than a decade of her early life; the paper, a simple scrap bearing a one line address; and the photo–a close up closely shorn neck and a series of black lines tracing along the nape of a youngster's neck.
And those black lines were Jondy...
Images swam as her eyes filled, and she roused to look up at Normal, who stared in surprised at the reaction of his usually-tough messenger. "Normal, who brought this? When?"
"It was in the truck with the other ten o'clock–"
"Just now? Who...?" She ran to the street, looking each way to find any delivery trucks in the area. None–and it was already 10:20; no telling where they'd be. She went back in.
"Can you find where they went?"
"No–I don't even know who did their run today." Normal's gruff demeanor was shaken by this intense, emotional reaction from her. He peered close. "Look, if it's bad news..."
"No...I don't know...look, I gotta blaze. I'll be back..."
"You gotta work..." The moment of compassion was done.
"I get a lunch hour. I'll be back..." And grabbing a bicycle, Max pushed out into the street to see what Logan could do or say about this...