Disclaimer: Once upon a time, I never owned them…so there.

Rating: PG-13 for language and violence

Time-frame: post AJBAC

A/N: Hey hey hey, fic-readers (is that even a word?) Here's another update. Think I'm gonna be winding this one down in a couple more chapters, maybe two or three. (yeah right, I say that all the time right) Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 11

Back Into the Swing of Things

"Were we in love?"

The question hung in the air. Cindy froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth; Bling sputtered as he choked on the mouthful he had already taken. OC gathered her wits about her enough to give him a couple slaps on the back, and then they both turned silently to Max and Logan across the table.

They sat staring at each other. Both not believing what had just been asked. But Logan spoke first.

"Max, I'm not sure I understand what you're asking?"

"It's not that hard Logan, there's only two possible answers," she tried, her eyes never leaving his, her voice soft but the silence of the room had it speaking volumes. "I just want the truth."

Logan sighed, not sure how to answer. "Well, Max, we—we were—um—we—we"

"Ya'll were in denial," Max's best friend finally broke in.

"Original Cindy!" Bling turned to her. "Ok, this time, it's gonna be me saying who stays and who leaves. And we're leaving." He stood up from his chair, motioning that she do the same, which she did after grabbing a handful of breadsticks. The two of them left, barely being noticed by the couple who continued the seemingly endless staring contest, as though if one looked away, the spell would be broken. So they sat, the two of them, drowning in the massive sea of each other's eyes. It was a while before Logan finally spoke again.

"Do you mean 'we' as in collectively?"

Max almost laughed. It was actually kinda amusing to see him squirm for some reason, but her voice spelled only exasperation. Why can't he just answer the question? "Logan, how hard is it to just tell the truth?"

"Well that depends on how well you know it," he answered back, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And that's supposed to mean…?"

"That means…I don't really know how you felt about me." He paused for a moment, wondering if the answer sounded plausible, even to him. "You died before you had the chance to tell me."

Max turned away so he couldn't see the disappointment that crossed her face. She decided to overlook the comment on her death for a moment. There had been hopes for a straight answer, thinking maybe she could actually start to move forward in this vicious game everyone called life.

"Oh," was her only answer. It was a moment before she could compose herself enough to turn and look at him. "Well, if I died, then why am I here?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know that either. I don't know how you survived…I thought I had lost you, and I almost didn't survive."

Max suddenly didn't need an answer to her question. The look in his eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry, Max. I wish I had more answers for you, but I don't."

"That's okay," she assured him, before standing and grabbing her coat. "Thanks anyway."

"Where you goin?"

"I think I'm gonna go hang with Cindy for a little while. You know, clear my head."

"Ok, I guess," he began uncertainly. "She's at—"

"Jam Pony? Yeah, I know. I'll just hook up with her there, and then maybe we'll head to Crash or something. See ya later?" It was more a question than anything.

"Yeah," Logan responded. "I'll be here. I'm not goin anywhere."

She nodded, and turned to go.

"Max, wait." Logan's voice seemed insistent, and Max whirled to face him immediately. Suddenly, he was only inches away. "Here." He pressed something into her palm. "I got this for you. Keep it on."

Max nodded, and shrugged into her coat, before turning without saying another word, and leaving the apartment. Logan was left sitting alone, wondering how his world had gone so wrong.

Max stepped into the elevator, and looked down at the small object in her hand. She flipped it open, and a little welcome screen displayed. How practical. She smiled to herself as the elevator began its descent to the ground floor.

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"Bip Bip Bip people! Time is work, work is money, and money is what you won't have if you don't get your sorry butts into gear! Let's move!" Normal tossed a somewhat oddly shaped package at one of the riders as he passed by. "Here, hot run."

Sketchy just barely caught it before turning to Normal. "I'm on my lunch break."

"Did you eat your lunch?"

"Well yeah, but I still have—"

"Then your break is over," Normal cut him off. Sketchy sighed, and turned to head to the bike rack to obtain some broken down form of transportation. "Where the firetruck is Cindy?"

At just that moment, Cindy sauntered through the door and right up to the counter. "Original Cindy is right here, your Highness. Don't your get your royal panties in a bunch."

Normal merely looked at her over the rims of his glasses. "You're late."

"What can I say? It takes time to look this good."

"Do you want to continue to work here?"

She merely rolled her eyes but didn't comment. "What do you got for me?"

Her boss held out a small package for her. "163 Queen Helen's Drive."

Cindy turned it over in her hands and examined it. "Is it a hot run?"

Sketchy, who had been listening in on the conversation, rode over on his newly acquired bike, and whispered quickly to her, "It's Normal. Everything's a hot run." Then he rode off.

"I heard that! And read the sign, there's no riding indoors!" Normal shouted after him as Original Cindy walked away, and then began muttering to himself. "Illiterate imbeciles…"

"Miss me?" came a voice from in front of him. He looked up to see Max standing there with a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Well, look who's decided to grace us with her presence. If it isn't the Master of Slacking herself."

"That's chill, Normal. I'm not too fond of you either, so it works out both ways." Max replied, keeping the smile on her face. "Got a hot run for me?"

The man scoffed and pushed his glasses up on his face, tilting his head to the side. "Surely you jest with me. You think you can just not show up to work for three months straight, and then stroll in here one day like you're God's great gift to Seattle, cheesin like there's no tomorrow and think you're just gonna pick up where you left off? Did they fry your brain wherever you went?"

Max hid the surprise she felt behind her perfectly emotionless mask as she had been taught. Three months?! "Look Normal—"

"Go ahead," he interjected her, "insult my intelligence."

"You know what? I was the best rider you ever had. Don't even try to deny it. This place has fallen to ruins without me. Now if you wanna stay in business, you can either take me back or you can hire three more people, which means three more paychecks, and still only half the work."

For once, Normal didn't disagree, and was speechless for a moment. "Fine, but you're on permanent probation. One step out of line and you're out of here."

Yeah, sure, whatever. Max took the package from his hands, and turned to walk away.

"Hey Cindy."

Original Cindy looked up from tying her shoes. "Oh, hey Max." She returned to her previous activities before realizing who it was. "Max?! What are you doing here? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," she replied.

"You aight?"

"Yeah, I'm straight."

Cindy wanted to go further into it, but decided against it, and instead stood, taking her package with her, and offered to deliver packages with her homegirl, who readily accepted.

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Max and Cindy rolled through the front door of Jam Pony. Max stopped and hopped off her bike.

"Yo, OC we're inside," she called, signaling for her friend to do the same, but Cindy merely raised an eyebrow at her. "Come on, I just got rehired. I can't get fired again, then the only thing I'd have to do would be sit around Logan's apartment and stare at the walls as I try desperately to recall the last year of my life."

Her best friend didn't reply, but sighed and got off the bike all the same. Max shook her hair loose of the stray drops of rain which had begun to fall outside, and slammed her locker shut.

"Know what I need?" Cindy suddenly asked her.

The response came to Max's mind from the depth of nowhere. "A pitcher of beer?"

"You know it my sistah," OC replied, and the two of them headed off towards Crash.

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Max followed Cindy, and they stopped at Max's old apartment. Max climbed the stairs slowly. For some reason, though she didn't know why, part of her had half expected that things had changed in her absence. The other part of her was simply happy to finally be recognizing things. It was as though someone had partially opened the floodgates to her memory. It seemed the more she did, the more she remembered, and she hoped that soon she would just be able to remember it all. Cindy turned the key in the lock, and the door opened. Max strode in and looked around. The first thing she noticed was standing in the corner, and she made a mad dash for it.

"My baby!"

Cindy smiled at her friend's obvious affection for the inanimate object. "Yeah, I couldn't really bring myself to get rid of it after—"

Max looked up at her, waiting for her to continue, but she didn't. So she just shrugged. "Thanks, boo."

"Just lookin out for my sistah," Cindy replied. She turned and headed off down the hallway. "Let me get out of these work clothes, and into something more Crash-worthy, and we can be on our way. That cool with you?"

Max nodded. "I'll wait out here." Once Cindy entered her room, Max decided to take a peek into her own. She opened the door, and was surprised to find that everything had been left exactly as she had left it. As though no one had been in the room since she'd last been there. She sat down on her unmade bed, and looked around. Her eyes stopped on the small catlike statue on her dresser. Slowly, she made her way over to it, and ran her fingers over it gingerly.

"Bast," she whispered. In her head, she could hear her own voice. Something distant, as though from a memory that wasn't quite sure it wanted to be remembered yet. It's the Egyptian goddess Bast, the goddess who comprehends all goddesses, eye of Ra, protector, avenger, destroyer...giver of life who lives forever.

The knock on her door snapped her from her thoughts.

"You ready boo?" Cindy asked as she screwed the earring into her ear.

"Yeah," Max replied distractedly. "Yeah, I'm ready."

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The two friends strolled into Crash, and Max stopped to look around, taking in the familiar surroundings. She then followed Cindy up to a table where Sketchy and his squeeze for the night sat, having an interesting conversation no doubt.

Cindy walked right up to them, and knocked on the table. "Yo Sketch."

He looked up. "Oh hey, Original Cindy, this is—um—"

"Brenda," the girl reminded him, extending her hand to Cindy and giving her a warm smile.

"Original Cindy." Cindy introduced herself.

Max finally caught up with her friends.

"Max?!" Sketchy actually dropped his beer in his lap. And it was a few seconds before he was lucid enough to try to mop up his mess. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked her anxiously.

"Selling my soul for a job. Where the hell have you been?"

He gave her a cocky grin. "I've been around."

"Apparently," she responded, eyeing the girl next to him. Max and Cindy got some pitchers, sat down and joined the other two in talk of Normal and his rantings, and other such things that filled their daily lives. Sketchy was very interested in Max's whereabouts for the past few months, but decided to continue the conversation with her later on in private. Max smiled to herself as she finally felt comfortable for the first time in days. This was where she belonged. Out with her friends, hanging out and attempting to lead some semblance of a normal life.

A shrill ringing interrupted the atmosphere at that moment. Max frowned and pulled the phone out of her pocket.

"Hello?" she answered, though she already knew who it was. Only one person knew she even had the phone so far. That being the person who gave it to her.

"Hey," Logan's voice came through pretty clear despite the lack of reception the phone said she had.

"What's up?"

"Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to come back here and talk. I've kind of got a little surprise for you."

"Really?" Max's voice changed as she was intrigued. "What kind of surprise?"

"Well if I told you that, it wouldn't really be a surprise, now would it?"

The X5 narrowed her eyes though she knew he couldn't see it. "Fine, be there in twenty." She hung up without waiting for a response, and turned to her friends.

"Damn, boo," Cindy spoke before she could. "Your squeeze keeping you on a short leash."

"No," Max rolled her eyes. "And he's not my squeeze. But I do gotta roll. Catch you guys later." She nodded to them, and they departed ways. Max mounted her bike, and revved the engine, pulling her shades over her eyes. This better be important Cale. If it isn't you're gonna have hell to pay. With that, she rode off into the night.

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Max picked the lock, and quietly entered the apartment. It seemed to be empty, until she found her way to the dining room. Logan had set up the table for dinner complete with candlelight all around the room. The sight took Max's breath away. It certainly wasn't what she'd expected. But then, where was Logan anyway?

"Hey," came a soft voice behind her.

She slowly turned to face him. Surprisingly, he was right behind her. He held out a rose for her, which she took.

"Happy 15 month Anniversary," he smiled at her.

Max's gaze was focused on the rose, it seemed each petal was softly dawned with fresh dew, and hung with just enough weight to keep the flower open in bloom, when it shined its brightest for a while. She finally looked up at him. "Any reason to celebrate, huh?"

"You better believe it." He pulled out the chair for her, and she sat down. Moments later, he set a plate before her.

"Pasta Tricolore…" she whispered, a memory aching to come from the back of her brain, but not quite there yet.

"You remember?" he asked.

"Kind of," she responded vaguely. "It's hard though. I've been remembering a lot of things. But there are gaps too, and that's the most frustrating thing."

"I know, Max. But I promised we'd get through this together, and we will."

She smiled at him, and turned her attention to the dinner. Once it was over, she moved to clear the table, half expecting him to stop her. But he didn't, and instead moved to the living room and turned on the CD player. Instantly, the soft tunes of Valse Triste floated through the air.

Max froze in her spot. "This is the music…from the car," she finished uncertainly.

"Right, from the car." Logan had suspected that there was more to it than that, but didn't want to bring up any mind-boggling conversations at the moment. He was having enough trouble just getting Max to remember him to begin with. Anything she gave him was welcome with open arms. Speaking of open arms… "May I have this dance?" He extended a hand to her, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it.

They circled the room slowly, each a million miles away. Max looked into Logan's eyes. The magnetic blue preventing her from looking elsewhere. It came then, the memory she'd awaited since she sat down to dinner.

Flashback

They danced together, oblivious of the dreamworld which surrounded them.

Logan felt her tense suddenly. "You okay?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yeah," she assured him, "I'm just a little dizzy."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No," she protested, "don't let go."

"I won't."

She knew that he wouldn't, but she needed to hear it. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Suddenly, their heads were drawn together. She couldn't help when his name escaped her lips.

"Logan…" it came out a soft whisper. Then everything went dark.

Flashback ends

They moved as if one, and suddenly, their heads were closer and closer.

"Logan…" she said his name as if to assure that he was really there, to assure that he was really hers. Closer and closer still.

This time, there was no dream to wake up from; there were no brothers and sisters to interrupt needing help; there were no meddling friends popping up from nowhere to tease them. There was just them. Him and her. And when the right time came, their lips met.

Max couldn't remember ever having felt so exhilarated in her life. It was as though Logan's kiss had set her soul on fire. Well, pending she had a soul. It seemed as though every neuron in her nervous system was firing continuously, stimulated or not. It was a dream, the best kind. The kind you didn't have to wake up from. So this is what it's like to be in love? …awesome…

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Post: okay people. Sorry for the delay, but hey, got a happy ending to this chapter, right? I mean, I figured I'd give you one without so much of a cliff-hanger, since the hard wooden chairs are cutting indentations into the bottom of your legs. (how many times do I have to tell you, sitting on the edge of your seat isn't healthy?) Next installation up in a short while. BTW, does anybody know what Sketchy's last name is? I'm writing another fic already, and I don't necessarily need it, but it works well with the dialogue. Anybody know? Share the knowledge if you do!

Angie731