DISCLAIMERS in previous chapters.
SALUTATIONS AND THANKS to all of you, with special thanks for those you who have taken the time to write. Every word is considered and appreciated. For those of you not too crazy about the psychological portions of our program, my apologies for this chapter, but I just can't help myself...
CHAPTER 12
FOGLE TOWERS: earlier
She'd been aware that Logan had come in; she could smell the distinctive, sensual scent that was Logan, his shampoo and soap on shower-warmed skin; she heard the soft whisper of tread on hardwood. But she'd been sleeping again, deeply, and by the time she could clear the cobwebs enough to open her eyes, even as she felt him adjust the covers around her, he was on his way out of the room to the hall.
He was going to meet Matt, he'd said...he didn't say why, but she suspected it was related to what had happened with her, earlier. She'd ask him when she was more lucid; she'd want to know but she wasn't quite there yet.
She stretched, sighed, rousing slowly, thinking about Logan and wondering again at her memories and her dreams, trying to sort out what happened and what she imagined...no matter what it had been, she knew that he had been worried for her and, probably because of it, had stayed close, closer physically than he'd come since the night her seizures were bad and he sat with her as he had this morning, waiting for the bad to pass...
She'd noticed that when he knew she was waking, he backed off, almost shyly, but she had vague, hazy memories of his gentle touch when she was nearly asleep. A part of her was relieved at his reticence, because she was still skittish of settling down, of indulging in attempts at a real life. But her relationship with Logan–whatever it was–was complicated. 'Yeah, that's it,' she told herself, as she pushed up to sit, to test her head. 'Complicated by the fact that he's gotten to you, Max. You're not leaving Seattle as long as Logan Cale is here and still paging you every day...'
She was sitting, head in hand, when Bling came down the hall after seeing Logan off. Glancing in, expecting to see her huddled form tucked into a sleeping mound, he stopped, surprised. "Max? You alright?" he asked, opening the door a little wider.
She looked up in a little surprise, and tried a smile, "Oh, yeah...just trying to see if I'm back in one piece yet."
"It may take you another day or so" the man smiled, adding "Logan just left...he stopped in to check on you on his way out but thought you were still sleeping."
"I know" she smiled sheepishly, "I woke up too slowly; by the time I came to, he was gone."
"He shouldn't be gone too long." Bling assured her, "and I'll be around til then, if you need anything..."
Max looked at the man with growing appreciation, thoughts slowly waking to add up all the things that Bling had done for her, and the strong, insistent protection he offered Logan in so many ways. "Thanks," she began. "Bling..." He waited, in that quiet, graceful way of his. "Thank you–for so much; I don't know where to start. I know you went out to the warehouse district with Logan...you've made calls and checked me out and stood by through all this, you picked up some clothes for me that Logan arranged, and even sent my stuff to the cleaners" she indicated a still-wrapped bundle from the laundry, waiting for her on the dresser, "and brought back my bike..." She shook her head, "Bling, you did more in a couple hours than I could get organized in a week..." Looking back to the strong face, now smiling softly, without comment, Max went on, "and...you watch after Logan, and the stuff he doesn't want to face, better than anyone I could imagine..." She hesitated, sighed. "I know...and I know he knows...he wouldn't be anywhere in this, without your being there, kicking his ass when he needs it...and covering his ass when he needs that."
"Right place at the right time." he minimized.
"No..." she shook her head, not finding the words. He knew, she realized; it was amazing all this man understood... "Bling...do you know what happened, out there, how he was hurt?"
The trainer stepped into the room, came closer, to lean against the dresser–he'd heard her tone, and knew she had enough questions to keep them there a while. Bearing in mind his client's right of privacy, Bling also bore in mind his client's need for contact–preferably, with this woman. He knew full well how to negotiate the competing interests. And at this moment, he decided he would answer whatever questions Max might have to the best of his ability, within the bounds of his duty to Logan. He drew breath, to answer. "Not too much. Logan went there alone and didn't call for back-up until he was on his way in. I guess Detective Sung got there about 4 or 5 minutes before I did. Before that, Logan had disarmed the guy and had him immobilized."
"Disarmed?" Max's eyes got bigger.
"Veterinary dart gun–the one he used on you." Bling watched the woman take it all in. "But when I asked, he wouldn't talk. In fact, the line he told you–the 'argument with a pharmacist'–was more than he'd tell me." At her shrug, in question, Bling explained, "the guy who grabbed you was a pharmacist, and his mother, a former Manticore doctor..." He saw memory rise in her eyes, "and they were in the process of using you as a blood donor for sick mama."
"I remember..." she whispered, "and, I remembered her, when I saw her come in..."
Bling was interested to hear that she was starting to recall events. "At the warehouse?"
Max nodded. "She came in once...they talked about taking my blood, the sedative in it and that dear old mom wouldn't be any the worse for wear from the drug, as long as it wasn't pumped in nonstop..."
"Any idea why you? Bling tried, a topic he and Logan had debated, earlier.
Max shook her head, thoughts on a different path. "Any port in a storm" she guessed. Knowing she would eventually have to worry about how they spotted her as one of them, she set it aside for when Logan would return, and shrugged. "She must have needed more blood than she could get by legitimate means–if they knew I came from there, Dr. Mom would know that my blood is compatible with all blood types." At Bling's look of surprise, she said in humorless irony, "another service brought to you by the fine folks at Manticore." Back to her own thoughts, back to Logan, she was quiet for several moments. When Bling said nothing more, she focused on the therapist to ask, "...why is it so hard for him, Bling? I can't believe he was so reticent before he was hurt–is it this hard for everyone who goes through an injury like his?"
Bling lifted an eyebrow, shrugged, looking down as he considered how much to say. Looking back, he said, "It's usually hard to adjust... but with Logan..." He was quiet again for a moment, then spoke. "In recent years, especially with Eyes Only, he'd become self sufficient, far more reliant on himself than on the Net...a loner... and demanding of himself, impatient with getting things done, feeling more and more pressure to do more and more. For every success came more requests for help, and he wanted to fix them all..." Max's suspicion was being confirmed, that Bling's working relationship with Logan predated the shooting... "And, he was used to being in shape, working alone, getting things done without a lot of struggle." Bling's eyes fell distant, seeing something in his memory, unspoken. "Then–things changed." He was quiet a moment, then looked back to Max. "Whether or not he should– yeah, he's taking it harder than others might. He takes everything harder, so why not this?"
She nodded, vaguely, with his words, mulling them over, recognizing the truth in them. "I dreamed that Logan carried me out of there, that he was...holding me..." she started.
"That wasn't a dream..." Bling's rich voice interrupted.
Max looked up to the dark eyes in confusion. "But how...?"
"He carried you out...lifted you and held you, got you to hang on so he could push ..."
"He held me...." Max looked back up, sadness in her eyes as she realized, "He's gone now, isn't he? That Logan, the one who held me like that..." Unconsciously raised fingers to her cheek, traced along the path that his knuckles had tenderly stroked...
Bling shook his head. "Not gone." He considered, and shrugged, "...in hiding, more likely."
"From me?"
Bling considered, nodded. "Yeah. And from himself. And from facing the rest of his life without half his body. And that whole is far, far greater than the sum of its parts..." he suggested.
"But...doesn't he know that the chair doesn't matter to me?"
"No, because it matters too much to him. And...." he challenged, " I'm not sure you really know yet if the chair matters or not."
"...Bling, it doesn't..." She broke off, unfinished.
"Doesn't what? Change things? Of course it does. Matter? It does to him–so it has to, to you. And you won't know how you feel until you sort out what you think about all this, you in his life and him in yours, how each of you fit...and once you get a handle on that, and what part he can play...that's when you can take an honest look at what it means–if it matters, to you."
"Bling..." the eyes begged. "They're hunting me–they always will be! Here, a stupid pharmacist was able to find me and pull me in! It's bad enough for everyone else– Original Cindy, Kendra; everyone in my life--even you. But Logan, in the chair..."
"... is especially vulnerable...and how can you tell him that?" Bling completed her thought, his voice quiet. "And so it is true, isn't it, that it matters...maybe not in the way he thinks it does...or that you were afraid it does...but it matters. It makes things different. Usually, harder." Bling looked at the hurt and confusion in Max's face at the thought, and felt some regret that they'd had this conversation while she was still not feeling back to normal. But the opportunity presented itself and as with all things, Bling believed, it had for a reason... "Max..." he spoke gently, "there is no one in his life that matters to him more right now than you do...and no one who handles him better in his self-doubt and moodiness and despair than you do..."
"You do..." She offered, her voice very small, carrying a note of envy for his skill at doing just that.
He smiled a little, shaking his head. "My role is very different. And your dealing with him is not really any less accepting than mine–that's what's important, here." He looked for some comfort to offer. "He's not hiding from you because he wants to, or wants to avoid you...he's afraid of how powerfully he feels about you, Max, and all the implications, not only of your being tied to a paraplegic...but of his being tied, after being such a loner, to anyone, no matter how much he wants it...and how that fits with his being tied to the chair, both in the context of the two of you, and of the world at large. It's a lot to sort out, and it's all still pretty new."
"He was the first one to point out that we're not like that..." She remembered, softly.
"And probably wanted more than anything at that moment to have you kick his ass for saying it." Blink chuckled, sagely.
"...and then a few nights later, calls me out of the blue for a candlelight dinner he'd made..." She remembered, reconsidered the moments in light of Bling's words, then looked up to him, unresolved.
"You both have a whole lot of baggage you're working through." Bling helped, "but I propose you keep at it. You both know you may not be 'like that' yet...but you sure are something...and won't it be interesting to see what the hell that is..."
FOGLE TOWERS: present
The sound of the door being opened, sacks shifting, and items being dumped–sounding suspiciously like keys and mail–brought Bling to the entry to see a quiet Logan Cale turning toward the kitchen.
"Hiya" Bling tried. "How was the pharmacist?"
"In a prison jumpsuit–I think pumpkin orange is a mighty good color for him" Logan rolled past, trying to appear unruffled.
"Anything new from him?"
"No–he's willing to keep his mouth shut for the promise of relocation, but anything else, he wanted..." Logan paused, "well, he wanted things I couldn't promise." Logan put the bags on the counter and moved partway out toward the hall, asking softly, "How's Max? Did she wake up again since I left?"
Bling saw the concern in the man's eyes and, not bothering to ask Logan to confirm that which he already knew–that Briley was wanting to trade information for a ticket home–he nodded, "yeah, you just were moving too fast–she was waking a bit from your going in before you left–you just didn't wait long enough for her to get past groggy. She was awake for a little while, maybe an hour. I think she dozed off again."
Logan nodded, and offered, "Thanks, Bling. Look, why don't you take off? You've been here way too long; you need some rest too, some time off from all of this..."
"And you'll get your reps done on your own?" Bling wasn't buying it...
"I'll do the alternate set–I promise" he added, at the skeptical glance he got. "I owe you a lot, I know, but this one, especially..."
"Max is special, Logan. I wanted to help, if I could."
"You did. Big time." He looked away to push back into the kitchen. "I'd better get the groceries..."
"You got the mail?" At Logan's grunt, Bling walked out to see it dumped, Logan's usual careless style, on the table. With a long-suffering sigh, Bling went to sort it and put it away as appropriate–bills or other Logan items, as opposed to EO matters of interest...and lifted an envelope with his own name on it–no other markings. Opening the unexpected packet, Bling drew out two sets of season tickets to the 'Sonics–impossible to find, far beyond his current means–and the topic of his complaints the other day, how tickets were not to be had this season, period.
But apparently not out of reach for Eyes Only... "Logan..." he muttered, shaking his head, before moving back toward the kitchen and holding up the tickets to Cale. "I don't know who you had to grease--" Bling saw the green eyes look up to his, hoping the gift was a success. "But ...thanks, man... you shouldn't have gotten all these..."
"I didn't want you to have to go alone." Logan turned back to the groceries, but was pleased that the tickets had been the welcome surprise he'd seen that they were. "Certainly you have some lady friends who like a good game of basketball?"
"How 'bout a friend who does, too, and knew how to score some tickets?"
"Well, man, if you're that hard up, then I really feel for ya..." Logan relaxed into a grin, offered into the refrigerator's produce drawer as he worked.
"Logan" Cale turned to look back up and saw the other man make contact. "Thank you."
"Just tryin' to say the same to you." Logan didn't break the contact this time. "Now, get out of here. You think Max is healthy enough to have me as her nurse, then get out of here. I don't want to see you back for a week."
"How about tomorrow?"
"How about five days?"
Bling smirked, turned, chuckling, "See you tomorrow, Logan..."
To be continued...