DISCLAIMER: (cackling manically) Mine, all mine....!!! (Just foolin.' They still are just borrowed, except for the mama & son whack jobs. Again, I'll be happy to give them away.)

THANKS AGAIN TO ALL of you –but for the previous chapter I owe a special thanks to IdleHands452: being a hard core pacifist, I just never thought I'd be inclined to do much in the way of physical/fight scenes, even for DA...but with IdleHands452's repeated concerns about ass-kicking, it started to sound like a good idea, and it seemed that Logan ought to get a shot at it. So thanks, IH–even if it wasn't the sort you'd envisioned, I hope it did the trick. AND TO "ME" --unhunch those shoulders!! I may not have gotten my work done for the office this weekend, but got back here with another installment! (try to guess which is more fun!)

POINT OF ORDER: What's coming up may be not so much fluff as angst...I'm the new kid on the block and just call it ALL the "mooshy stuff." Regardless of the technical term (and with apologies to the strict constructionists out there), the watch remains in effect...

CHAPTER 8

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT

Logan lay sprawled across the smaller man, held frozen in place by his swelling wrist tight in Cale's fist and the dead weight of Logan's lower body on his. "Where is she?" Logan repeated, squeezing the wrist as a reminder. "I'll find her, with or without your help, and I promise you it will be far better for you to tell me now."

"Please..." the man begged now. "My mother was dying. Just a few more transfusions and ...Max... can go..."

"...What happened to 'the sedative is toxic'?" Logan demanded, breathing heavily. "You think you're going to keep Max around after poisoning her?"

"..but...X5s were made to be disposable..." He said in all sincerity. "And Mother is...was...dying..." he explained, his tone strained because of the pain in his wrist. The man was blithely unaware of why his reasoning was vile–and Logan felt a new wave of loathing rise at the realization. He had to get away from this man or he'd do more permanent damage–and more importantly, he needed to find Max–now. This stuff about the sedative gave him chills. Looking around, he wondered what he could find to incapacitate the little kidnapper–and his eyes fell suddenly on the dart gun...

Logan stretched across the pharmacist's form, which twisted in pain as Logan's movement jostled the hand that held the man's shattered wrist, vice-like. One swipe, then another, and finally Logan was able to coax the barrel into place where he could grab it. Hefting it into his arm, Logan brought the barrel with its loaded darts flat against the man's thigh...

"No!! No, please, don't use that..."

"Why? Safe enough for Max...let's see, how many doses are in this thing?" Events were taking over Logan now as he wanted to hurt this man, terrorize him as he must have hurt Max...his breath came harshly, his words, guttural, as he pulled back the trigger. "Some for you...some for 'mother'..."

"Logan!!"

The voice barely registered, as Logan again jerked on the mangled wrist and moved the gun barrel to under the quaking man's chin. "Just a sedative, isn't it? As I recall you aimed it at me, too..."

"Logan, stop--"

Cale knew who ran up behind him; he'd known the voice, even expected it, but was so filled with anger and hatred for the vermin in his grasp he didn't waver, never having felt such a cold, powerful force before. "Let's see who's disposable..." he glowered...

And felt a hand grab his shoulder from above, insistent but cautious, guiding his arm down and away. "C'mon, Logan, it's over" Matt's voice soothed, the voice of an officer trained to diffuse adrenaline-driven crises. "Let me handle this." After a beat, watching his friend carefully, the detective deftly guided Logan to roll back off the other man, in doing so allowing him to sit, hands propping him upright. All the while keeping his eyes on Briley, Matt crossed a few feet over to retrieve Logan's chair and bring it close.

"Where is she? Your friend–is she alright?" Matt asked. He watched Logan's eyes round in realization as he came back to earth.

"I don't know–I've got to find her..." Logan hurried to struggle back into the chair, seeing that the hallway door stood open, left ajar after Briley came to investigate. Single-mindedly now, Logan tore into the hall and pulled at doors to open them, finding two of the five locked ...pivoting in a tight circle he slammed back out to the entry where Matt was pulling the man to his feet.

"The keys, damn it!" He grabbed at the man, and added, "and which room? Two are locked..."

The watery eyes flickered for a moment, as if suddenly remembering something overlooked before. He said, vaguely, "My mother's room is at the end of the hall..." When he made no move to find his keys, Matt fished in the pocket where he'd just located them in a quick pat-down, and gave them to Logan.

"Are they on this ring?" Logan demanded, "are they?" The remembered words about the sedative Max had been given kept Logan's nerves pulled near breaking as he thought about the effects of the drug– it could be even minutes would make a difference...

Defeated, the pharmacist nodded, dazedly. Without more Logan spun around and sped to the first locked room, fumbling the keys into the lock. "Please, please..." he heard himself breathe...

And slammed open the door to look inside to a metal gurney, IV tree at its side, tubes leading down and back to the small, slender form--Max's form--pale and limp and barely breathing...

"Max--" he launched himself at gurney, and, as firmly as he could in his panic, grasped the cool arm in his left to hold it steady, pulled back the paper tape over the needle, and drew out the metal cannula imbedded in her vein. That she did not even stir caused his throat to burn, as he murmured again, "Max..." moving to feel for the pulse at her neck. It was there, but thready and weak... with a sudden glance up to the bottle holding another inch of the fluid that had been pumping in to her over the past hours, Logan grabbed at it and, turning it upright, shoved it into the bag slung across the back of his chair. Glancing around at the single, open cart, he shoved in the other few bottles and vials in view. He could have the contents analyzed; it might make a difference in helping her recover...

Maybe the little rat bastard could give him some clue as to what was needed to bring Max back... he'd tell him that Matt would go easier on him if he would help, maybe let his mother walk out of here, without charges ... If only the results of this nightmare weren't lasting...

Logan shoved the last bottle into his backpack and came back to Max's side, drawing his palm across her forehead, looking for a sign that she was close to consciousness. "Max..." he crooned now, softly, insistent. "Max, c'mon, wake up, we're here..." He thought he could tell that her breathing shifted, and tried again. "Max? We're going to get you out of here..."

This time a small pucker creased her eyebrows, and a low sound came from her throat. His eyes suddenly filled...

"C'mon. I've got you..." Without thought as to how he was going to negotiate this, Logan carefully scooped the limp form into his lap, across his chest, leaning her side into him and dipping to pull her arm up around his neck. "Can you hold on, Max? Can you help me do this?"

At his words, Max seemed to rouse a little more and her eyes fluttered open, weakly. "Logan..." she managed, her own eyes filling, "...I knew you'd come..." she breathed...

He blinked hard, swallowed the huskiness in his voice as he pulled her to him. "Of course I did," he murmured. Holding her close now, Logan buried his face in her hair, as the relief flooding him left him weak, unable to stop himself from this, from cradling her to his chest and brushing his lips across her forehead...

...but she would remember, and when she was better she would kick his ass...oh, damn, how he prayed she'd be able to kick his ass for this...

Managing to shift a bit to give her a better seat on his lap, he tried to get a grip on himself and to figure out how to get them both out of there. "Max, can you hold on?" He guided her other arm up over his shoulder, felt another ripple of relief as her hand curled around his neck...and was nearly knocked flat when he felt her then nudge her way in to nestle closer and curl up into his chest, a purred sigh escaping...

He managed to push them both smoothly and gently on down the hall to see Matt in the doorway, successfully battering the jammed electric doors open widely enough to accommodate both pedestrians and those on wheels. Logan barely noticed that Briley was now in the firm grasp of Bling, who had apparently arrived after his exit, the backup he promised Matt for coming alone. "How is she?" Matt asked, concerned.

"I'm not sure yet–she's not at all herself but she came around a little." Logan's eyes never left the pale woman in his lap. Bling's eyes took both of them in, quietly assessing. His brow darkened in concern.

"You're sure you don't want an ambulance?"

Logan nodded vigorously. "Hospitals these days..." Oddly grateful for the moment that his own experience–and his money-- went far in getting guys like Matt to buy an excuse like this, he explained, "I know a doctor who will come to my place and treat her; he's good, and she can get better care that way. If she needs hospitalization, there's a private clinic...I want her to feel safe, and I'm not too sure about our municipal facilities these days–the clinic is quieter, in the country." he embroidered.

Matt nodded. "Can I do anything?"

"Anything you can find out about the drugs they gave her, if there's something that she needs to counter them...what we should do. I don't know, maybe his mother knows something" Logan murmured, idly. "I'll give you a statement in the morning, anything you need to hold him."

"Okay, Logan--"

"And I'd like to talk to him, too, when this all settles down..." Matt's eyes narrowed, and Logan offered, "He has some information that could harm a lot of people, Matt– it might be that Eyes Only could offer him something that would encourage him to keep it to himself..."

Matt looked uncertain, suddenly, whether or not he still wanted to be a part of this. "A threat, Logan...? Or a bribe?"

The concern got through even Logan's distracted, muddled thoughts, and he shook his head, relaxing a little. "Neither, Matt–you have my word. And it won't be anything to help or hinder this case."

Sung hesitated, then nodded his agreement. "I'll arrange it."

Logan nodded grimly, watching Bling walk the pharmacist, handcuffed, to Sung's car outside so Matt could go down the hall to bring Briley's mother along, found by Bling a few minutes earlier to be alone, testy with events–and unequipped to be a threat to anyone, short of a shot from her still-arrogant tongue. Watching a moment as he saw Bling speaking, low, to the prisoner, Logan turned back to add, "Matt, I'm in your debt on this one, more than anything else you've done... I know what I asked you to do was a risk to both your safety and your job, and..." Exhaustion was wreaking havoc with Logan's ability to find words, and to hold his emotions together. "Anything I can ever do–I'm absolutely serious, I have you covered..."

As he considered the toll this had taken on the journalist, Matt's face softened into a relaxed, boyish grin, and he shrugged, clapping a hand on Logan's shoulder, supportively, as he turned to go. "Hey–we all gotta stay strong in the struggle, right?" He tipped his chin knowingly at the man. "Take care of her, Logan."

After depositing the pharmacist in Sung's car, Bling walked back to the Aztec where Logan sat cradling Max, as he looked up to his trainer with eyes begging for words that would heal her. "Let me get this in back" Bling bent toward the empty wheelchair at the curb. "The guy was willing to talk a little."

As the therapist stowed the disassembled chair, Logan again drew the whisper thin form of Max close to him, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her even closer as he felt her again curl needily into his chest. As many times as he had imagined feeling his arms like this around her, and hers around him, he would have given anything if it hadn't happened at all, not like this...depleted, he leaned his cheek on her soft hair, willing her to recover...

The driver's side door opened, and as Bling got behind the wheel, leaving his own ride behind to be picked up later, Logan lifted his head, wearily, waiting. Pulling away from the warehouse, Bling began, "The guy's a pharmacist– his mother was a doctor, developed some of these drugs herself. He gave me some basic information I can pass on to a lab tech I know, who can do an initial analysis on the drugs. And I called Beverly on the way over. Once you know what's in her, Beverly might be able to help decide if she needs anything to help sleep it off."

"How does she seem to you, Bling?" Logan asked, still fearful for Max, as he looked into the beautiful face, composed and silent now. "She's barely breathing..."

"I know..." The big man soothed, "but she spoke to you?"

"A little..."

"Knew who you were–recognized what was happening?" At Cale's nod, he shrugged, "I'd think those were good signs." He glanced over to Logan, to admit, "I slipped back to see Mama, when Sung was with him." He nodded back toward Sung's car. "I suppose she had no reason to not be truthful about what she said, now. According to her, once the drugs are withdrawn, the effects recede–they won't continue to do damage. It will take Max a little while to recover, but she won't become any worse than when you pulled the drug. And, typically, those who survive the drugs don't have any lasting effects."

Logan shivered, looking up at Bling. "Those who survive?" He looked back to the woman he held. "Were we that close to losing her?"

"Don' matter now" Bling said evenly, a note more upbeat, to avoid Logan's figuring out exactly how close it had been. "You saved the day, man. Pretty good–maybe even good enough for me to hold off a day or two before I kick your ass for getting yourself mangled up..." He glanced over to see what effect his words might have had, and was disturbed to see that Cale barely registered them. He fell silent, understanding that these hours had taken their toll on them both. And the therapist began to wonder about the lasting effects on the hero almost more than he did on the woman in his arms...

...to be continued...