DISCLAIMERS: Not mine, wish they were; not making a dime, wish I were!
THANKS to all readers, old and new, and thanks for all the interest. Your comments are appreciated and always helpful.
Chapter 13: Fogle Towers
Hearing the door close behind Bling, Logan allowed himself to feel some satisfaction that he'd found a way to thank the man for the invaluable help he'd been with everything in the past twenty four hours, over and above his usual duties that, standing alone, would try anyone's patience...putting away the last of his purchases, Logan came down the hall silently toward the guest room, to peer in. Max slept facing the hall, her face tipped down, slightly, the low light still catching her features. He watched momentarily, wondering what all the sleep would do to her...wondering if he would ever see a more beautiful face...
Moving again, he pushed past his darkened computers, quiet now too, and he mused how odd it was for either Max or his array to sleep for so long. The Informant Net had gone unchecked for nearly thirty six hours. Not so long, really, but far longer than he'd left things unattended since...well, since he'd been sidelined with a bullet in his spine. He knew he should care but at the moment, other thoughts pressed, and it would take him a little while to shake them. Coming into the front room, Logan was yet again drawn to the vista before him, seeing without seeing the buildings that had managed to remain across the skyline of Seattle, broken as it was, many at this distance not showing their wear or decay ......
The previous thirty hours had left him battered physically and hollow emotionally; it made real the fear of Max's being discovered, but from a source and for a reason they never anticipated and still didn't fully understand. He was irritated with himself that he hadn't managed more from Morrison before he shut down; despite the information he'd given Matt as well as Logan, too many things remained unanswered for Logan to be happy. Maybe the mother would give some up; maybe Morrison would, too, in a while. But "maybe" and "in a while" were never acceptable answers, as far as he was concerned...as far as it concerned Max...
Oh, damn, Max...he let his breath out in a long sigh. He'd been so shaken when she'd gone missing, and the sight of her, stretched out on the metal cart, life drained out of her...had anyone ever told her what Briley had said to him, that she was "made to be disposable"? Logan fervently hoped not, and that she would never hear it...
He mused over other things alluded but not explained...what the hell had Briley meant, Logan wondered, palms pressing his thighs almost protectively, when he kept implying that Logan's injury somehow had significance, in his looking for Max? It was as if he thought Logan wanted to line up for her blood, too... "I hope you won't need much–she's not going to last much longer..." Briley's words echoed in Logan's memory and he was again chilled by the thought of what this lunatic implied. They'd come so close to losing her...his own oversight in stopping her, in not getting the address, brought her even that much closer to death, left her captive longer...and he would not let go of the guilt, not yet...
His eyes closed against the beautiful city scape, overwhelmed with where the past thirty hours left him: from the panic he felt in losing Max, the guilt of feeling that he was at fault, the viciousness with which he demanded her return...he finally had to acknowledge to himself the truth: he was hopelessly in love with her, needed her, craved every moment of those brown eyes looking into his... When she first roused, he'd thought she might not remember much from the past few hours and things might go back to the way they were-- platonic...business-like... he thought he might hide the closeness and not have to face admitting to her what it was to hold her, as he had, breathing her in....
But she was remembering some things, Bling said...and he wondered if she'd let him get away without explanation...
"Hey..." he heard, interrupting his thoughts. He quickly flipped off his brakes, lightly, and pivoted to see Max, outlined in graceful silhouette by the soft light along hall.
"Hey yourself..." He managed. At his response, the small, lithe form of his patient padded softly, on bare feet, toward him. She was still wan and subdued for Max, but looked better; there was some color in her cheeks, and the light had come back in her eyes. "How ya doin'?" he asked. They were alone, she was awake... he thought. ...now what? Will she have discovered that I feel...
"Okay. Not sure if I'm groggy from needing sleep or getting too much of it." She came to his right and folded onto the couch, still not ready to be on her feet too long, but gamely offered him a tiny smirk. "I was afraid the world might have suddenly gone right, and I'd've missed it."
Feeling a smile quietly form for her, involuntarily, he allowed only a momentary reflection that she often had that effect on him, that even when he was in a dark mood, her appearance, the unique mix of intelligence and street veneer that was Max could raise a smile that could pull him out of the worst of it. He relaxed a little with her jest. "No problem there" he assured her. "I was going to start dinner...think you'll be hungry?"
Her expression, though weary, was pure Max. "I'm awake, aren't I?"
"Riiight..." he nodded, smile quirking. "I'd better get started, then-- it will be a little while, only about ten minutes to throw things together, but it will cook for about an hour. Would you like something to tide you over?"
"No, I can wait." She looked at him, her eyes softening, holding him in place. "You haven't been to bed yet, have you? Since before I was here, last time..."
He shrugged. "I got a few hours."
"In there, with me..." She sat, not speaking for the moment, then said, "Logan, I was so wrong to go..."
"Max, it's alright--you've apologized enough for something you needn't." Well, she ought, he noted to himself in a tiny, private nudge, only for a nanosecond, but she had apologized, several times now, and he was as much to blame for letting her go... "You're back and you're safe; that's all that matters." He watched her, seeing that this brief, intense episode had rattled her as deeply as it had him, if for different reasons. Maybe enough that she wouldn't remember the rest...maybe enough that it would change her, too, as it threatened to change him...and he wondered if it would be for better or worse, for them...
...if there was a them...
She sighed, sadly. Logan's attention was returned to the present, looking at her with concern. He didn't think he had ever seen her so conscience-stricken, and when the rich brown eyes looked back up to his, he saw such sadness there, his chest tightened a little, "Will you tell me what happened, to you?" she asked, softly.
"Maybe–when you're feeling better." This Max brought out the caretaker in him; he knew her well enough to realize that in her weakness her guards were lowered, but that in only hours she'd be back– wouldn't she? Telling her any of it now, her emotions bare, wounds upon wounds over the past two weeks, would just be heartless. "Besides" he reached slowly to flip one brake gently, then the other, eyes never leaving hers, "I promised you dinner, didn't I?" When she said nothing, eyes speaking of the volumes of her regret, he urged, "We'll be fine, Max, each of us; I promise." Unaware that he had moved closer, Logan reached out to take her hand, chastely, sweetly... "We'll be fine...and I will always be here for you."
The words were out before he could think, and for a moment, he feared her reaction. But maybe it had been the right thing to say, he decided, when he saw the intensity in her eyes soften...and she let her fingers curl around his. "And I'll do better at remembering that..." she whispered...she was quiet for a moment, and without showing it, Logan let his mind run amok with the fantasies and hopes he'd always managed to contain, before...
He had to be the one to break the spell; he had started the contact, and he at the moment was stronger than she...hating the need to move, he let his smile urge her comfort and let his hand slip from hers. "Why don't you go back and grab a nap while I get dinner cooking..." his voice was soothing, warm. "You'll waste away if you don't get something soon..."
"I'll come help..." she offered, wanting to stay with him.
He raised an eyebrow. "Cook?"
"I might surprise you" a glimmer of the "usual" Max surfaced.
"Max, you will always surprise me–but not in the kitchen" he chuckled, hands to rims, starting his exit. She rose to follow.
"Then let me watch–at least the ten minutes throwing togther time."
"You sure you feel like it?" He crossed smoothly to the refrigerator to start taking out vegetables and a bag of chicken pieces. He filled his lap with the things he needed, corralling them with one arm while pushing with the other. Laying the produce in a basket in the sink and splashing them with water, he managed a glance up to Max, seeing that she too, was working her way back to a balance, back to protecting her emotions and deepest thoughts from him–maybe from herself, too. He felt both relieved and saddened...
"I've got to stay up a while and start moving around–I feel like I haven't moved more than two feet in a week." She sat at the counter, watching him start his work. "It also feels like it's been years since I had a Chef Cale Surprise."
"Well, then, this one had better be extra-special." He smiled in soft confidence, back on solid footing now. He'd already decided that it should be, her first decent meal since coming back. "It's something new." New to her, at least. Something he hadn't made in a while, for silly, superstitious reasons...he brought the vegetables to the work counter and pulled out a paring knife.
"Really? Will I like it?" She dared, watching his artistic hands as they worked.
"From past experience, I think so–you like all the ingredients" he smiled down to the peppers under his knife. "I hope so..." He also hoped his tone was light, platonic...and looked up. "How are you feeling, honestly? Do you think you're shaking off the effects?"
"Yeah, I think so." With effort, she was approximating a true 'Max' tone. "I wouldn't want to have to take on a gang of bikers quite yet, or have to jump more than a 10' fence, but yeah, I'm getting there..." She watched his hands another moment before looking up to offer, "I ought to be able to get out of your hair tomorrow, and go on back home..."
"There's no hurry, Max; as long as you want to stay..." He spoke in a rush as lifted his eyes from the cutting board, to hers, and found her looking at him intently, making him hesitate a moment, his words gone. "...I mean..." He went back to cutting vegetables, his excuse to break contact with her gaze, right back where he'd been ten minutes before. "You know there's room...and food, and plenty of hot water..." he tried.
"Maybe that's it; I have to get back to real life soon or you'll never get rid of me..." She smiled vaguely, then suddenly remembered. "Oh, Logan, I didn't think..." she looked troubled. "How long have I been gone?" She tried figuring out the time. "I need to call Original Cindy–I told her I'd be gone overnight at the longest– she'll be worried, and I probably have no job now, to top it off..."
Logan looked up, watching her wind up to a batch of new concerns. 'God, Max, don't you know you don't need that job; you don't need ANY job,' he thought, 'if you wanted to just stay here it would make me happier than anything in my life and I...'
"No problem–"Logan found his voice, pressing his thoughts way back to the small corner where they always lurked. "I called Cindy and told her that you'd gotten the flu, so would be staying up with your cousins another couple days. Doctor's note can be ready whenever you want it..."
"Thanks" she relaxed, her latest worries put aside. Thinking for a moment, she sat back, then laughed, "but the flu? Kinda boring, don't you think?" The old Max was finding her way back...
"Well, I figured it did fit your symptoms, if you went back and you were still a bit woozy." He held up a piece of sweet green pepper he'd been slicing, and Max took it with a smile, immediately crunching down on the crisp vegetable. "Besides, I could have said your cousin's wedding suffered from an outbreak of food poisoning, sending over fifty to the hospital..."
"Well, why didn't you? That's interesting, and I could have made up some terrific stories..."
Logan looked half-surprised, amused, and offered "Most people would find that the height of embarrassment–and I didn't want your family to suffer that humiliation all over again, what with all those whispered stories, afterward..." his wry smile of amusement made his eyes sparkle, she thought...
"But Original Cindy's my closest friend and I could tell her..." Through the grin, she actually sounded a bit disappointed.
"Well, you still can..." Logan shrugged. At her questioning look, he raised an eyebrow, the twinkle in his eye impossible to resist. "Just tell her I lied so as not to embarrass you." His grin quirked with the eyebrow. "It's exactly what I would have done--had your cousin's wedding really been struck by food poisoning, sending over fifty people to the hospital."
"Logan Cale...man of mystery...and of such a big heart..." Brown eyes looked long into green ones, and both sets hesitated...
Without looking, they'd fallen together in the most intimate of touch and concern and fear, for each other...and almost without looking they'd gotten through and recovered and stepped apart again, each waiting for the other to be sure...
...and this time, it was the brown eyes that broke the connection, with another round of glowing smiles and fun. "I'm going to call her right now and tell her how the groom had to have his stomach pumped."
Logan's haunted stare softened too, as he glanced down and away a moment, chuckling, before looking back to her. "Not the bride?"
"No–sister girl is family." She pronounced. "Nothing bad will happen to her on my watch." She stood smoothly, not the bounced, rapid movements she often displayed but liquid, quiet...Logan suspected –hoped-- it may have been less physical recovery than comfort, trust–she wasn't in fight or flight mode now, was she? The running, wild thing in her might be starting to trust him, after all...he dared the belief that he'd guessed correctly, that it was true. "May I use your phone...?"
He grinned, widely. "Knock yourself out..." He watched her disappear to return with the phone, sitting at the bar with an expression of delighted mischief...but as she started to punch in the number she slowed, stopped, and her expression quieted...Logan looked back up from the herbs he'd been chopping to ask, "...Max? You alright?"
"Oh–yeah..." She put the phone down, subdued but still smiling softly. "I can't do that to Cindy, lie to her like that." She sighed, looking back up. "She is family."
Maybe she was seeing things as he'd hoped, Logan thought, seeing that if a group of kids all whipped up in test tubes together could be a family to her, then so could those in her life who cared about her now. "True." He couldn't stand to see the light in her eyes diminish as they had, and so offered her another smile, one of equal mischief. "However, there is someone in that same family of yours who, I suspect, may have been put on this earth to wait for your stories..."
"Normal" she beamed, grabbing up the phone, and stopped, looking at him with almost a pout, eyes still twinkling. "...but admitting to him this Guevara family embarrassment?"
Logan shrugged, playing along; anything, for those eyes... "I'm sure he'll be the soul of discretion with this...don't you think?"
"Yeah" the beam blinked higher, as she punched in the number, and waited only a few moments. "Normal?" she asked, in a suddenly soft, weakened voice. "It's Max..."
To be continued...