DISCLAIMER: Same as all the others.
Thanks to all of you who've hung in thus far...
METRO MEDICAL: Roof
It had been ten days, and Max had been drawn back again and again to watch Logan Cale as he struggled more with some inner beasts than with any limitations left after being shot. She couldn't figure out why she was compelled to return, not able to stay away for more than a very few days, and it even creeped her out some to think about that, too: half the time she found herself angry at him, for various reasons, usually that he'd drawn her there...
...well. Maybe not half the time...
Over the last week and a half, she'd come around to see him engaged in the most desperate struggle of his life: to fight the blackness of despair and self-contempt, all just to face the physical realities of getting on with life as it now was. And as much as she tried to tell herself all the drama was just because he was a spoiled rich kid who'd never had a moment's hassle before this, she knew it wasn't true.
If it had been true, he wouldn't be here, having to deal...
She frowned, sitting down on her haunches behind a large air vent on the hospital roof, anonymous in the building's height relative to the other, smaller buildings in the area, to plot her next move. Another source of irritation, this; it was her third trip over here this day and Logan Cale was nowhere to be found. Still. Of course, neither was his nanny, and a fast call to the rehab unit from around the corner let her know that BL wasn't on the floor, and in fact, upon checking, the unit secretary discovered that he was off-grounds but would be back, oh, probably around two thirty or three. So at the time of her second stop Max figured it was field trip time for the pair, and she'd swing by later.
But now that it was six o'clock, and no sign of them--what the hell was she supposed to do?
Damn him, anyway, she growled to herself, irritated with herself yet again, that she would be here, stewing about some whack stranger who thought he was Batman. She could imagine how her teachers and commanding officers at Manticore would have derided his behavior, how they would all say any real soldier with half a brain would have seen it coming, and would have bailed on the mission long before the ambush went down...
...oh, crap... she thought ...is that what's gotten to me? Just to do a bit of independent case study on what makes someone do something so ill-advisedly stupid?
She stared up at the pleasantly blue sky going twilight, a rare spring evening of soft breezes and sunset, and allowed herself the comfort of the privacy she'd found there. She really had been obsessing about this Cale guy, she admitted to herself, but it wasn't because he'd been hurt after she refused to be a part of his suicide team, she was sure about that. She was.
So then...what...? she dared to ask herself, letting her thoughts slow down and defenses melt a little, to honestly examine the past couple months. Face it, Max, you have never staked out some guy like this before, never gave much of a rat's ass for anyone other than your sibs til you got here and met Cindy and Herbal and even Normal...and even for them you wouldn't be following them around...
So, what is it with this guy? You've met guys before, even some sort of cute...
But you have never, ever known someone away from Manticore who knew it all, or at least knew enough that there were no real secrets, knew enough that he looked for the bar code, knew exactly why tryptophan was in your drawer...knew why you could bail out a window a few stories above the next landing without going splat...knew how they manufactured you...
She shivered, suddenly, with the next thought: and what's more...he was strong in ways that she was not, pure in his altruism, as compared to her own, focused day-to-day survival...
...he had killer green eyes that saw through it all to see her as she was, who she was...and hadn't lost the look that he was seeing another person. No one who knew what she was, not even her siblings, had looked at her in such a way that she could see them feel her humanity...
She shivered again. Where the hell was he? Damn do-gooder whack...
FOGLE TOWERS:
Since Logan had asked to come back here, few words had been passed between them, Bling uncharacteristically apprehensive about the moment that he sensed was watershed: in these next minutes, Logan Cale would determine if he was going to move forward, or fall back down the hole he'd just struggled to escape. Bling was wise enough to know it would be Logan's choice, and that they had reached the point where Bling had offered him all he could, in the way of hope for the future. But he was also pragmatic enough to know that any wrong step of his own might be snapped up by Cale as an excuse to give up. So he was quiet, he was there to lend silent support and be there if anything was needed...and he was absolutely committed to maintaining his poker face...
As he drove back to Sector 9, this time with Cale's sharp eyes taking in scenery and surroundings, he was reminded of a watershed of his own, so many years ago. He had arrived back in the States after his summer overseas with the Medical Corps a week sooner than scheduled, the conditions and terrorist aggression so intense that the Corps, the last medical team left in the hill region under siege, was pulled out and smuggled across three armed crossings in their only chance at escape...
Just barely twenty, the young man who had the advantage of having seen many foreign cultures and exotic lands was in shock from the horrors of genocide, of ruthless destruction and the proof of just how barbarous and bloodthirsty humans could be... He wasn't sure if he could go on, if he wanted to be a part of such a world. Unaware of exactly how he had managed it, he found himself in the Phoenix airport, still dusty and scraped from his escape, calling for a cab and reciting, from long memory, an address...
He hadn't spoken, couldn't speak, but simply appeared in her doorway, staring at her with huge, haunted eyes and sunken cheeks...the athletic form and confident bearing had in ten short weeks been bowed by the emotional weight he bore and shaken by the parade of broken and bleeding bodies that he'd seen every day and that revisited his dreams, every night...
And Granny didn't speak either, but simply pulled him into her arms as she had when he was tiny, sinking right there and then with him to the floor in the doorway, silently rocking him and beating back the ghosts, allowing him finally to let go, moaning in low, shuddering grief for all those they could not save...
The woman with the wisdom of the ages, who'd taught him the joy of song and fireflies, who'd read to him and spoke of so many things, now taught him the power of silent, unconditional support. He stayed with her for two weeks, only one or two words shared each day, but her loving touch and warm arms there to bring him back and assure him there still was good in the world...his granny, who could do anything, proved once again to be his guide, his strength...she brought the shattered, ragged spirit safely though the fire and helped him find a foothold. Maybe not peace, right then...but certainly set him on his journey to find it...
"Bling?"
Bling blinked rapidly a couple times, finding that his eyes had misted slightly as his memories came back so sharply. He looked over to see Logan looking at him, some concern in his face now, and also noted that he'd found his way back to the parking garage, on auto-pilot. Bling offered Logan a neutral smile of assurance. "All set?"
"Look..." Logan hesitated now. "It's okay, if we need to get back...if you need to go. I've taken a lot of your time..." The smile apparently hadn't been assuring enough. "Or I could get a cab..."
"No, man, it's fine. Let's go..." Bling opened the door. "I have some more stuff to do up there, anyway. This will save me a trip later on." Better, he saw: Cale opened his own door and started reaching for his chair...
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Bling finished up the list of items he wanted to order for the therapy room he'd set up for Logan, since his client had decided he'd prefer working his program at home rather than coming in to the hospital for PT as an out-patient. Bling was actually pleased by the prospect for a couple reasons: first, as a private therapist and not as hospital employee, he'd be able to show Cale some alternative options that the hospital still didn't promote for pain and the probable spasms that he'd be facing, such as acupressure and acupuncture and meditation techniques. And second...he'd have a pass into the inner sanctum of EO, and could be available to help, if Logan asked. Before, he'd needed to do it for Peter's memory. Now...he also wanted to be there for the man who wanted so badly to make the world right again...
He wandered past the computer room without really stopping, but slowing enough to cast an eye on his patient, who looked a little drawn but had a fire back in his eyes that had been out since he'd been shot. Noting the growing dark outside, Bling realized that Logan hadn't eaten in a while, and could use some nourishment. He knew the cupboards were bare, literally; he'd tossed out most of the refrigerator contents himself weeks before. He turned to go back into the computer room and waited through a message as Logan scribbled some notes, then stopped the machine, looking up to his therapist.
"I was going to offer to feed you, but there's nothing to offer–literally. You don't have some canned tuna tucked away somewhere, a frozen dinner or two?"
"Hardly" Logan snorted softly.
Bling chuckled at the tone. "Well, look–I saw the market a couple blocks down. You'll need a few things soon anyway. You keep at this and I could go pick up a few things, make us something..."
Logan's eyes clouded and his brow furrowed as his expression closed off, as if he were hiding something. "Look, I don't know, maybe instead I should just wait on all this and come back here later..."
Regretting whatever he'd done to stop Logan's progress, Bling hesitated, wondering if the man was nervous about being alone, knowing it would need to be addressed if so, but unsure about the best timing for it... "It would only be a few minutes; I can get us something and make a fast dinner..." he tried again.
But if anything, Cale looked a little more prickly with the thought, and reached to unlock the brakes of his chair, coming around the table where he'd been working to face Bling. "Maybe I should come with you," he asserted.
Which had Bling fully puzzled now. Frown still in place, Bling looked down to the man in the chair before him, whose green eyes, not making much contact, darted aside, almost as if he were feeling guilty about something...
...and then it hit him: surprise, even delight, crossed Bling's face in the sudden realization, certainly relief a big part of it, and he actually laughed, out loud, pleased that it had actually come to this...
"I don't believe it," his laugh was low, rolling. "Eyes Only trusts me enough to let me in on all this, to let me see it all and have full access..." his gesture swept the room, eyes twinkling, "but doesn't trust me in the produce department?"
Caught, Logan glanced up, then away again. "The two are entirely different..." he grumped, only to watch Bling laugh again in relief that he'd been right, and rallied to his own defense. "I've seen you with this stuff" Logan tipped his chin toward the still-dark computer monitors, then looked Bling straight in the eye. "But how can I know what you'll do in my kitchen?"
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They compromised on Chinese take-out, Bling gratified to see that his charge attacked even the mediocre lo mein with an appetite he'd not evidenced at any time since Bling had been working with him. As they ate, Logan told Bling about the calls he'd reviewed so far, including a developing thread from one of his most reliable informants, building a story that he was itching to follow...
As Logan had spoken, Bling noted a couple longing looks to his computer array, and caught a references to what he might try to track, on the system. After the third suggestion of information he'd need to find there, Bling finally suggested, "Logan–look-- let me screen the messages. I can do what you're doing there, just taking info down. You go ahead and get the system back on line." Seeing his hesitancy, Bling went on, "I added some new security measures, both for the penthouse itself and the system–external only, so far. No reason you can't unplug when you're done, if you want, but it's only gonna be another week before you're back here full time–you could leave it on the same security you used to use when you were going to be gone a day or two. I'll stop by every day, and if you want...you could come, too."
Wary, the green eyes looked into Bling's, still cautious of the complete commitment here. But in only another moment he looked back to the system, as if seeing a long-lost friend. Eyes not leaving the computer, he finally said, "If I do that...we'll be a while...we might not get out of here 'til eleven, maybe midnight..."
"Let me make a call or two..." Bling said smoothly, without question, getting to his feet.
Logan looked up at him, guiltily. "Bling. Look, if you have something..."
"Nope. Just making a call or two." he said again. "Tools and stuff are where you left them..." And as he stepped out in the hall to retrieve his cell phone and punch in the first number, to make his excuses for the evening, he felt a weary relief that Logan Cale was going to weather the storm...
CRASH
"Hey, MAX!!" Sketchy's voice finally got through to her. "Your shot."
As she frowned and came around to the side of the table, lining up her shot, she ignored his look and leaned over to smack the balls angrily. She wouldn't allow herself to worry, so the only thing left to feel was anger, unable to tear her thoughts away from the fact that Cale had gone missing... two balls popped into their pockets. Another shot, more balls...without giving thought to her game, and therefore playing far better than her friends had ever seen, she finished the round and threw her cue on the table, stabbing a hand out toward Sketchy. "Pay up," she barked, flatly.
"Damn, Boo," Original Cindy murmured. "Whatever it is been up your ass tonight, you ought to market it. Girl could get rich hustling with a talent like that."
"What?" Max turned to Cindy in irritation, but seeing her expression, snorted a little at herself. Now she was taking this out on her friends... She rolled her eyes and offered, to Cindy in particular, a muttered, "sorry."
"What got you so gone, tonight, anyway?" Cindy pressed. "You in some kind of trouble?" she asked, voice low.
"Oh–no; just..." Just what? How could she tell even her best friend how she'd turned control freak, that when she couldn't be sure that rich boy was tucked in all snuggly she went pyscho? There was definitely something wrong in the wiring, and there was no one in on her secrets to whom she could spill..
Except him...
Damn it!!
"...look; I gotta blaze," she apologized to Cindy. "It's nothing; it's just...." Her eyes lit up as she remembered Kendra's dismal mantra. "It's just, you know....hormonal..."
"Oh, girl, don't I know how you feel," Original Cindy immediately sympathized. "You okay to go on alone?"
"It's probably safest for everybody" Max finally relented, offering a rueful smile. "I'm fine–see you tomorrow." She gave Cindy a quick hug and half waved to the others. Outside, she jumped on her Ninja and revved up the engine louder than necessary, in another surge of consternation. Just one more try tonight...if she could call it 'tonight.' It was already tomorrow...
METRO MEDICAL: THREE EAST: Patient Room #4, Rehab Unit:
Logan pushed into his room, tiredly, feeling his shoulders ache at the end of a day longer than he'd had in months–literally. The unit was quiet; one fellow inmate sat in the lounge, watching an old movie on TV, but otherwise all was darkened and still. 'Ten past twelve, and all was well...'
So much had happened that day, he considered briefly the man he'd been when he left this room that morning...he felt almost as if he was seeing with different eyes, as if a fog had lifted... and felt another wave of guilt that so much time had gone by while he wallowed here in self-pity and fear, despite Bling's demands that he had no reason to be guilty, and all reason to pick up and get back on track...
Despite the twinges and the events of the day, he knew it would be a while before he could sleep, and he crossed over to his bed. Locking his brakes, he swung himself up gracefully onto the quilted spread, pulling up to prop his pillow on the headboard and to lean against it, pulling out a small leather folio from the bag on his chair. Pages open in front of him, he paused, staring off across the room, lost in thought...he knew it was not going to be easy, and knew himself well enough to know he would have many days where he could not feel even this optimistic.
But today had been a good day, all told...a full one. Maybe Bling was right...there's always a way to make a way, if you looked hard enough to find it...
And as he slowly drew a deep breath to hold it and then release it, feeling the twinges in his shoulders soften, he felt his lips quirk up in a rusty, hopeful smile...and thought he heard, somewhere overhead, a small breath catch in emotion to have seen it...
...to be continued...