Thanks once more for all the encouraging reviews – they always make my day!

Special thanks as always to Alaidh for all her hard work as beta!

Story 3, chapter 10

"You both have French names. Are either of your parents French?" Logan asked the older child as he served her some of Bling's soup.

"No," she answered quickly.

'Both American?" he pressed gently.

"Sure," the child replied. Almost a little nervously, thought Max, watching from the window side of the dining table.

Monique was seated next to her on some large, thick books that Max had found - ignoring Logan's under-his-breath comment that they were important - and then topped with one of the sofa cushions to bring her nearer the height of the table. She looked around curiously and wriggled a little on her seat, her small face serious as she surveyed everyone at the table.

Bling brought some bread rolls and butter over to the table, but with no place set for him it was obvious he was not about to sit down and eat with them.

"Are you going to eat, Mr. Bling?" Genevieve asked thoughtfully.

Grinning broadly, he replied, "I've already done that ...and just 'Bling' will do fine."

"Do you know where your daddy is?" Logan tried again, getting a warning look from Max not to press too hard, as he passed her a bowl of soup.

Genevieve looked a little unsettled at that question. "Daddy had to go away," she said quietly, blue eyes concentrating suddenly on her soup.

"When was that?"

When the child hesitated, Logan said to her in a firm voice, "Genevieve, we want to help you. We want to find out who it was who took your mom, but you need to help us and tell us anything you know. Had you ever seen those men before?"

The child shook her head again, some locks of fair hair falling forward, her eyes still intent on her soup.

Max looked at Logan with a hint of exasperation, not entirely happy with his methods.

"Logan, they're not informants," she murmured meaningfully to him over the spoon of soup she was blowing on to cool for Monique.

In a slightly milder manner, he suggested, "Why don't you tell me your surname, and where you live; maybe I can contact some of your relatives." Finishing with an ironic glance towards Max as if to say, was that better?

"Our name is Green. Mommy's name is Sharon and my daddy is Brad. We don't have any relatives."

"No grandmas, grandpas, aunties or whatever?" Max asked, surprised.

"I never met any," Genevieve shrugged, apparently not that interested in her lack of relatives.

"Lucky you," Logan couldn't help saying. "So where do you live?"

"We only came to Seattle two nights ago. We stayed in a motel," she said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of it. "It wasn't nice like here," she added, as her eyes wandered around Logan's sophisticated apartment.

"Do you know the name of it, or where it was?" Max asked hopefully.

Genevieve screwed up her face a little in an effort to remember. "I just remember I didn't like it. It was dirty, and old."

"Well, there are plenty of those to choose from," Logan grimaced.

"Near the beach, downtown ...suburbs?" prompted Max.

"I like the beach," Monique piped up at that point, then losing her concentration, she managed to spill most of the soup, that she'd so carefully put on her spoon, onto the table, saying, "Oops," quite happily.

"I'm not sure," Genevieve shrugged. "It was just real ugly."

Slightly distracted by the mess on his table that was fast turning into a pool in front of Monique, Logan tried, "Where were you living before you came here?"

"New York," Genevieve answered promptly this time, and gave them the address.

"Well, at least it's a start," Logan replied, putting the last of his bread roll in his mouth before unlocking his brakes and heading over to his computer, thankful that he had something to go on at last.

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Two hours later, Logan knew exactly what he'd known two hours earlier – virtually nothing.

He stared at his computer, absently rubbing the tips of his fingers together, then unexpectedly his face lit up with a small, quick grin.

His apartment was unusually noisy.

Max had both girls set up at the dining table. She'd turned the TV above the wine rack around so that Genevieve was able to watch it, and Monique had a pile of paper and pens and was happily drawing countless 'peoples', all the while chattering away to Max, who was doing her best to understand everything that was said to her, but was fast learning that sometimes it was simpler and saved a lot of confusion to simply smile and say, "Really!"

Unlocking his brakes, Logan spun around and headed out to them.

Max was trying to discourage Monique from climbing on the table to get to another chocolate, pointing out to her with patience that she'd already eaten almost an entire box of the pretty shell chocolates, and she'd probably had enough.

The child look at her suddenly with big serious eyes, then her face crumpled, eyes scrunched closed, her mouth opened wide, and she let out a huge cry.

Logan looked at her in alarm. "Max, what happened?"

"She's not that keen on the word 'no'," Max remarked calmly, appreciating the performance.

Genevieve turned around at that point and said in her best 'big sister' fashion, "Monique, you can't eat all Logan's chocolates."

"I don't mind," Logan said at once as he coasted up to the table, stopping at the corner closest to Max.

Max noticed he didn't set his brakes – maybe he was getting ready for a quick getaway if the child couldn't be calmed, she grinned to herself.

Monique was momentarily distracted by his presence on the scene, but after a few seconds, she returned to her wailing with renewed vigour.

"She's had an awful lot already, Logan," Max warned him, having to raise her voice a little to get over the din.

Logan was watching Monique as if she were in danger of exploding. "Just a few more won't hurt, will they?" he asked hopefully.

"They're your chocolates," Max murmured as she gave in, admitting to herself that the sudden quiet was more than welcome.

"Genevieve," Logan said as soon as Monique was quiet, "are you sure you got that address right?"

The child looked across at him. "Sure."

"You couldn't find anything on them?" Max asked him uneasily.

"Not a thing. It's as if they never existed," he told her, leaning back and running his hands distractedly over the rubber wheels of his chair.

"That's kinda weird."

"Like everything else around here lately," he agreed a little tiredly, looking up to see Genevieve watching him. He gave her a half-smile.

Max turned to the girls. "I just need to talk to Logan for a minute. You'll be okay?"

Genevieve assented for both of them, calling to Monique to watch the funny show to distract her from Max's absence.

Max looked about, then led the way through to the guestroom, where she'd have the chance of talking without the children overhearing.

Without preamble on reaching the room, she said to him, "Do you think she's telling us the truth? If not ...why would she lie?"

Logan let out a breath, a puzzled expression on his face, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The events of the last few days were beginning to catch up with him, he thought wryly.

"Max, we don't know anything about these kids," he pointed out to her gently.

Max looked out the window for a moment, then turned and came around to sit on the bed in front of him, their eyes level.

"All I know for the moment is that we're the only ones who can care for them, and somewhere out there is a mother who's probably in agony wondering what has happened to her children," she told him quietly.

"I know ...but..."

"Logan, we can't just turn them over to the authorities!"

"I was gonna say, but what do we do with them now?"

Max shrugged. "They can sleep in here for the night, can't they?"

"I guess."

"Logan, what if those whack jobs at the warehouse are looking for them? Those kids could be in danger.

"I know, I know," he agreed with her, shaking his head with confusion. "I just don't know how all this ties into Emma Belding's disappearance."

"We couldn't just leave them there," she reiterated as if he needed convincing.

"Max, I agree," he stressed. "But that doesn't mean I have a clue about what we're dealing with here."

"Logan, if you'd only heard their mom's voice," Max told him, looking steadfastly into his eyes, her own eyes pools of concern reflecting the pain she'd heard in the woman's voice.

Logan swallowed, then looked down at her hand, almost with the idea of placing his own hand over hers in a gesture of comfort, but then the thought flashed into his mind that maybe his intent wasn't about comfort at all, and he held back.

"Well, one way or another we'll sort this out," he promised her instead, a little distantly.

"I don't wanna see those girls growing up without a mother," Max said determinedly, not noticing his tone.

"I know what you mean."

"It's pretty late. We should get them into bed. You cool with it if I set them up in here?"

"Well, considering the other option is to give up my own bed, I'd say it's a good plan," he smiled. "Need anything?"

Max shook her head, getting up to close the curtains. "You wanna get them while I turn the bed down?"

Logan looked a little uncomfortable at the suggestion. "I think they'd rather hear it from you that they're staying the night."

"Okay," she agreed brightly.

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The two girls were quite excited to be staying at Logan's. Monique because she was going to sleep in 'the big bed' with her sister, and Genevieve because Logan's apartment was luxury she had never come across before in her short life.

Max got a washcloth out for both of them, regretting the fact that she hadn't realized earlier the girls would be staying as she would have gone out and bought them the necessary toiletries and some nightwear.

Doing the best she could, she made sure their faces and hands were clean, stripped them to their underwear, and after finally discouraging Monique from jumping on the bed, she tucked them both in, and said her goodnights.

"Max?" Genevieve asked, her voice sounding very small in the half-light of the opened doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Will you find our mommy tomorrow?"

Max thought there was a slight tremor in the quietly spoken words.

Max hesitated, then finally said, "Maybe not tomorrow Genevieve, but we'll find her all right."

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"I got the kids settled," Max told Logan sometime later, not surprised to find him in his study, gazing intently at his computer screen.

"So ... watcha doin'?" she asked as she sauntered in, stopping to lean against the open sliding partition with an attitude that was unmistakeably hers.

"I've been thinking about Uncle Jonas ..."

"You tryin' ta give yourself nightmares?"

"No," he disagreed dryly, "but I have been working on why he was so set on avoiding interference."

"Ah, that would be the, 'stay outta this Junior and let the big boys play,' line," Max misquoted.

Logan looked over at her. "I see my uncle managed to make quite an impression on you, as usual."

"Yeah, and the more I see of Martin the more I think 'like father, like son'. Do we hafta talk about them?" she asked, screwing up her face a little. "It's not that long since I ate."

"Anyway, I decided I'd do a bit of checking into young Martin," Logan continued regardless. "I found out a few interesting things when I hacked into his bank account, and some of Cale Industries finance records."

He definitely had her attention now.

"It looks like Martin has had some financial problems."

"How big?"

"Big," Logan told her succinctly. "Big enough to dip into Cale funds by the look of it."

"Could he do that?" asked Max, surprised.

"He's in charge of finances for one of the divisions."

"Wow," was all Max could say.

"The thing is ...why?"

"Drugs?" Max guessed.

Logan thoughtfully released his brakes, shaking his head a little as he said, "I don't think so. I could be wrong, but I wouldn't have thought there was anything in his manner to suggest he's hooked on something, although I can't be sure, of course."

"Gambling? Next obvious thing," Max suggested with a shrug.

"It's a good chance," Logan agreed wryly.

"Or he's being blackmailed," Max added suddenly.

Logan grunted with irritation. "It would have helped if he'd just been honest with me in the first place."

Max looked at him. The bruise on his face was quite spectacular now. "He's been playing you."

"From the beginning. You wanna say, 'I told you so?'"

"I'm feelin' benevolent," she quipped back. "Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, then pushed himself forward toward the kitchen, talking over his shoulder as Max followed him, "If it were only about Martin ..."

"You'd dump this bitch back in his lap," she filled in succinctly.

"Right," Logan agreed, taking the kettle off the stove and checking it wasn't hot before he put it on his lap.

"But?" put in Max, a touch cynically, watching Logan as he turned on the faucet and filled the kettle.

"But now I have Matt Sung on suspension, not to mention a bullet hole in him, two small girls whose mother has gone missing, and we still don't know anything about Emma Belding herself or why those goons wanted that envelope."

"And killed Bryan Burke, took that tape, and burned down his office for that matter."

"I think that just about sums it up," Logan remarked, stifling a yawn.

Max watched him, her eyes suddenly serious. After all, he was only one man. She suddenly realized how much she relied upon him – how much she expected from him.

"Do you think this is too much - even for Eyes Only?" she asked softly.

Logan hesitated a fraction, then returned the kettle to the stove.

"You want tea?" he said abruptly, not turning around.

"Sure," Max answered, knowing with Logan patience was a virtue, and reflecting that he and Monique had a lot in common – neither liked to be told 'no.'

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Logan spent another long hour at the computer before finally admitting that he was getting nowhere, and the night was rapidly disappearing.

He shut down the computer, and then swung around to see Max, ensconced in a book, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped about her for comfort.

"You goin' to bed?" Max asked, looking up and smiling at him.

"Yeah," Logan replied, his expression softening a little as he looked at her. "I'll see ya in the morning."

"Night."

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"Logan, Logan."

He'd lain in bed, his body desperate for sleep, but his mind was on overdrive, chaotically flashing images at him of all the events of the day.

As if that weren't enough to disturb his night, there was now the fresh revelation of Martin's financial affairs – or lack of them, he thought wryly. How did it tie in to everything else – or maybe it didn't. He supposed he'd have to look into it further tomorrow – I'll just add that to the list, he grinned humourlessly into the darkness.

The visit of his uncle still bugged him – he looked up at the ceiling, his eyes distant, brooding.

I'm what you might call the black sheep of the family – he's a good reminder of what I don't want to become.

How was it that Jonas was still able to get to him, even after all these years – how had his uncle always known what buttons to push, he wondered darkly, shifting his shoulders irritably. He supposed he should be grateful for Aunt Margo's concern, but the thought of Jonas and Margot discussing his 'situation' only made him feel more irritated, and filled him with a sense of embarrassment. Who knows what they say about me over their coffees and martinis he wondered, remembering vividly some of the things he'd heard them say about others.

The only brighter spot to the day had been the image of Max and the two girls. 'The picture of domesticity,' he grinned to himself, amazed as always at Max's ability to surprise him.

It had been a long time since he'd contemplated what it would be like to have children, and it was a subject he'd never even let his mind broach after the handiwork of Bruno Anselmo. He and Valerie had talked about it in the early days – with the disaster their marriage had turned out, he was grateful it had never happened. Now he had to wonder if it would ever happen.

Finally, sleep had overtaken him, but it had been a restless one, reflecting the state of his mind, rather than that of his body.

"Logan."

He found himself surfacing groggily to consciousness, and through eyes that squinted tiredly, he looked towards the figure silhouetted against his doorway.

"Logan. You awake?"

"Max?" he suddenly asked, snapping awake with a start as he realized she was standing at his bedroom door, calling his name.

"Logan. Sorry to wake you. Monique threw up."

Logan took this information in slowly. He gathered something was required of him, but he wasn't sure what.

Struggling up on his elbows, he repeated vaguely, "She threw up?"

Then he added with concern, "Is she sick?"

"No...I'd say too many chocolates," she told him, a slight note of vindication in her voice.

"Right," Logan nodded, wondering foggily if she was blaming him in some way.

"I need some clean sheets ...No, don't bother getting up," she added quickly, not missing the small wince of pain she presumed was from his shoulder. "I got it covered, but I can't find the sheets."

"They're in the room, bottom drawer of the bureau."

"Cool," she thanked him, about to head back down the hallway.

"You sure you don't want help?" Logan's voice halted her.

Max turned back, a little amused. "How do you feel about the chunky bits?"

He paused a beat, a vivid picture in his mind. "I don't want to think about it," he admitted with a rush.

Seeing Logan's expression, she said, "Thought so," and disappeared.

Logan lay down again, asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Logan. Logan."

This time he awoke quicker.

"Max?"

"You got any laundry powder? For the sheets," she added, seeing his blank look.

"It should be in the cupboard under the sink."

"Unh uh. I looked there."

Logan frowned.

"Maybe I've run out," he finally said, for the life of him unable at four in the morning to get his mind around the state of his laundry cupboard when he had missing women, suspended policemen, and lying cousins to contend with.

Max looked a bit amused. "You keep your finger on the pulse of Seattle's finest dirtbags 24/7, but you don't know the state of your own laundry cupboard?"

Logan just looked at her, wondering to himself if he should admit to her that Bling would be far more likely to know.

Max's look of amusement didn't slip as she saw that he looked a bit annoyed by her comment. "Hey, I'm a lateral thinker. No big dealio," she smiled at him, closing his door once more.

Logan had a little more trouble this time getting back to sleep. He could hear the chatter of Max and the girls in the other room, Max's laugh over something one of them had said, the sound of running water, footsteps.

With a few sighs and grunts, he changed his position, and finally, he drifted off, as he let the day's tension ease from his body, into a relaxing, restful sleep.

"Logan." The voice was insistent. "Logan."

This time he didn't open his eyes immediately. The thought flashed into his mind that his somewhat rosy picture of family life had taken a beating. In fact, children seemed like nothing but hard work, he mused tiredly, somehow ignoring the fact that Max had done all the cleaning and washing and comforting.

"Okay," he muttered, sounding unmistakeably cranky about being disturbed a third time. "What is it this time?"

"Logan, it's morning," Max told him dryly.

This time his eyes snapped open with surprise.

"Right." He sounded a little sheepish.

With a touch of irony, Max leant against the doorframe and said, "Genevieve wanted to thank you for letting her stay in your crib. She's made you breakfast in bed."

Logan looked startled at that. "She did? Why?"

"It's called gratitude ...showing affection. You do remember those emotions?"

Logan looked up at her from his pillows with an expression that said, "After the night I've had, it's too early in the morning to spar with you."

"Shall I send her in?" Max simply asked, having used her best interpreter skills.

"Fine by me," he responded coolly.

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Max smiled to herself as she saw Genevieve's concentration as she carried in the tray of coffee and toast. Sure hope Logan manages to smile at her, she winced, wondering if she was sending a lamb to the slaughter.

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Max looked at the timer on her pager yet again. Bling had been in Logan's room for some time, doing his reps in there rather than in the exercise room, and still neither one had come out.

She looked at the two girls, both seated at the kitchen counter eating their breakfast, and flashed them one of her smiles.

"Logan can be kinda grumpy in the morning," she explained to them as she heard the raised voice yet again, hoping that Logan paid Bling a huge sum for his services.

"You grumpy, Max?" asked Monique with concern.

"Nope," said Max emphatically.

"Logan grumpy?"

"Sometimes a little," Max admitted.

"Is your dad grumpy in the morning?" Max asked Genevieve.

The child merely shrugged a little, and popped another piece of toast into her mouth.

The child certainly wasn't forthcoming with many details about her parents, Max mused, looking up as Logan came in, showered but not looking extremely happy with the world.

He gave her a tight smile.

Max wondered if this would be the best time to broach the subject.

"Logan. I gotta get goin' or Normal's gonna kick my a ...butt," she changed quickly at the last minute.

He looked up at her in surprise.

"You're going?"

"Logan, if I miss another day of work, I'll lose my job."

Logan looked meaningfully towards Genevieve, who was apparently absorbed in a morning kids' show, with a harassed look.

"Who's gonna watch the kids?" he whispered intently.

"Well, what's wrong with you?" she shot back, only to be surprised by what she thought was a look almost of panic on his face, but it was gone so quickly she half assumed she'd imagined it.

"I got a whole heap o' work to do," he said tensely, "I can't look after two kids."

"The way I hear it, all your work is in the apartment today," she answered coolly, tipping him to the fact that she'd overheard his earlier argument with Bling.

He threw her an annoyed look.

"Well, you were kind of loud you know, and besides, a stiff shoulder won't stop you from playing nanny. It just means you're housebound for the day. Makes you the perfect candidate," she finished, a trifle smugly. "Besides, I'm sure Bling isn't afraid o' kids," she added with meaning.

"I'm not afraid of children, and Bling has to go, that's why he was over so early," Logan explained pedantically.

"Logan, what's there to do? They look after themselves," Max told him, beginning to get a bit impatient with him. "All you have to do is feed them and find them something to do. Genevieve'll do all the bathroom stuff with Monique. Speaking of which ... where is Monique?"

They both looked around suddenly, the argument forgotten momentarily. Max darted to the front door, and looked out in the hallway just in case.

Logan wheeled through to the living area, but she wasn't there either.

Bling, hearing their concerns from where he was folding towels on the workout table, came through to Logan and said, "She didn't come through here."

Max was just about to check the bedrooms when Monique came bouncing into the kitchen, happily absorbed in shaking a small white plastic bottle to hear the lovely sound it made.

Bling looked towards Logan as he came into the kitchen, his expression a mixture of apology and guilt.

"Sorry Logan. Guess I didn't close the bathroom cabinet door when I got those pain killers out."

"Nothing to stop her from opening it again, anyway," Logan stated, brushing off his apology and watching as Max prised the bottle off the child, who surprisingly didn't complain.

"You can't have those. They'd make you very sick," Max told her gently.

"My tummy spilled out my mouth," Monique announced, a little tragically at this point, Max's words reminding her of the night's events.

"That's right, and if you don't wanna be sick again, you'd better not touch Logan's things," Max warned her.

The child nodded her head, looking with a touch of alarm towards Logan, perhaps with anticipation of a harsh word from that direction.

Max picked her up, both to make her feel assured, and thinking that for the moment, it was nice to know exactly where she was.

She turned to Logan a little hesitantly – he was already touchy enough on the subject.

"I can help you move your meds so that they're not at her level before I go," she offered.

"Max, 'everything' in this apartment is at her level," he retorted caustically.

Damn, he had a point, she thought unexpectedly.

Always the voice of reason, Bling said, "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. There's a big difference between her reach and yours Logan. It'd only take me a few minutes to child proof this place before I go."

Feeling like the world was conspiring against him, Logan nodded his agreement to Bling. He couldn't have Max lose her job on account of him, he thought a little guiltily.

Max checked the time again. "Gotta blaze," she said hastily, putting Monique down and promising to see her after she'd finished work. "Logan will look after you real well," she smiled at her with a wink.

The child didn't look overly sure of the fact, and looked at Logan with a degree of uncertainty before running over to Genevieve, who appeared relatively unconcerned about who would look after them.

Logan followed Max to the door, not altogether happy about how his day was panning out. When they'd rescued the children the day before, he hadn't supposed for a minute that he was going to have to actually look after them, least of all by himself.

Max turned to him and smiled as she slipped out the door, "Why don't you just smile at them, Logan. Let them know that underneath that grumpy exterior is a ...slightly less grumpy ... interior."

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Max paused appreciatively for a moment as her motorbike nudged the road outside Logan's building after driving up from the gloom of the underground parking garage.

The sun was shining in a clear blue sky for the first time in days, adding a clarity and crispness to the scene before her, even though her breath still lingered in the air as a white swirl.

Pity Logan was gonna be stuck in the apartment all day, she mused as she put her gloves on, then stopped herself almost guiltily, wondering since when did her thought life revolve around him.

Now the kids would have liked this weather, she decided.

Waiting for a break in the traffic, she revved her bike that little bit harder, a smile on her face as thinking about the kids made her think of Logan's look of horror at the thought that he might have to look after them.

Funny how he'll take on a Bronck or a Sonrisa, but baulk at the idea of two children, neither one intent on destroying the world – although I do hope Monique doesn't destroy his apartment, she grimaced.

She was thankful Bling had been there to volunteer for the job of childproofing the penthouse. The thought sobered her for a moment as she headed out onto the road, the air slowly whipping her hair back more and more as she gradually gathered speed.

Maybe I'm being too hard on him – maybe this is about the chair and not just about the kids, she worried suddenly with a stab of conscience. It's easy for me to be flippant about it, she berated herself a little.

Weaving expertly in and out of the almost stopped morning rush hour, she decided to skip out of Jam Pony as early as possible without incurring Normal's wrath. After all, I'm the one who was so set on saving the kids in the first place.

Max was so completely immersed in her thoughts about Logan that she didn't scan the crowds around Logan's apartment as she would normally do given the circumstances.

She didn't notice the man in the suit across the road, idly leaning against the lamppost, and the other man in the dark suit standing by the curb as if waiting for a bus. They simply blended in with all the other sights she half-saw that morning.

Stopping at the next set of traffic lights, she looked up high, straining her neck as she took in the blueness of it all.

"Yep, not a cloud in sight," she murmured.

TBC