Chapter Four

Guevara penthouse

It's a good thing I hung up when I did, Max reflected mere minutes after she got off the phone. Logan's penetrating voice had cut through the comfortable silence in her room, telling her that dinner was ready in monotone tones while seeming to case the place.

Ugh. She shivered as she helped set the table, causing the silverware to jingle slightly. That guy creeps me out. I seriously hope he gives Mom the details, pays, and goes on his merry little way - and soon. She made a face as she sat down to eat, ignoring as much of the conversation as possible.

"To minimize the danger," came Logan's words floating through her mind's haze, "we split into two groups. I put my SIC in charge of one, while I headed the other. By now, there were only a few of us left, at max - "

"Thirteen." Cheeky, Max expected her mom to quirk her lips at her small joke. Instead, she felt two glares in her direction, sobering her quickly. Now sullen, she muttered, "He said my name, geez, trying to lighten the mood a bit..." Her outburst ignored, he kept talking to her mother, and when a name was mentioned here or there, she could have laughed at the eagerness that played across her mother's face as she hastily jotted down notes if she hadn't been too absorbed in her own, rather selfish thoughts.

Finally, dinner was finished. Max had about enough of the talk on Manticore, and didn't care who knew. She stood abruptly, tossing her napkin onto the table and heading for the door. She grabbed her trademark black leather jacket, getting halfway down the hallway before her mother called for her.

Sigh.

"Yes, O Mighty One?" Her arms crossed in front of her chest, assuming the internationally known position of the impatient.

Mercedes glared at her daughter, willing herself not to allow this to explode into something that she might regret later in front of her client. Ergot, her voice because sickly sweet, her smile even more so. "Oh, but honey, I was just wondering where you might be going at this hour of night." She batted her eyelashes.

Two can play at this game. "Oh, but Mother, I'm going to Crash, exactly like I do every night." That I get stressed, she added silently.

Sleep? Logan wondered. Why would she be going out to sleep? Oh, wait, he paused, arriving at the seemingly correct solution, it must be one of the infamous sleepovers. Right.

"But surely you could spare just this night to spend with your mother and guest?" Mercedes's voice took on a concerned inquiring tone.

Max contrived to look rightly ashamed. "I already promised my friends that I'd be coming! They're probably already there and waiting for me. I cannot let my friends down, as you've aptly stated several times before." She flashed a triumphant grin. "I don't know when I shall be back," she stated in a British accent. "I shan't be out much later than my normal. Ta!" She winked and with that parting remark, she disappeared out the door.

Mercedes's façade dropped as soon as the door shut behind her only child. Turning to Logan, her face became apologetic. "I'm very sorry you had to see that. I just don't know what's getting into her of late!" She sighed, pausing for a moment, during which Logan couldn't say a thing even if he wanted.

"Well." Her tone became bright again. "Why don't we continue? Come, let's to the living room. It's more comfortable." She stood with her notepad in hand and led the way, leaving Logan to follow.

He followed, but something was nagging at him. I shouldn't get involved in this; it's a familial affair, and they are simply my employees - correction, Mercedes is the only employee. Mental sigh. Oh, screw it. Damn manners. Damn Maybel for teaching me. He addressed it before as he sat down on the rather large couch.

"Ms. Guevara, since you seem so worried about Max, why don't I follow her and make sure she doesn't get into trouble?" His Manticore training was screaming at him for even suggesting it, but his iron will over it didn't waver.

Mercedes looked up in surprise from where she was jotting down questions to ask. She was so surprised, in fact, that her pencil fell to the floor and her jaw dropped. The reaction wasn't good, in Logan's mind. Yep, just what you get for attempting to become normal, freak, he berated himself. You should have listened to instinct and never even come here in the first –

"You would do that?" Her tone was an incredulously happy squeak, causing the ex-Manticore soldier's head to jerk in surprise. He did a good thing? This is becoming normal? Maybe he wasn't a freak after all!

"Of course. I cannot allow my employee's familial concerns interfere with the research that you should be doing for me." His voice stayed the same monotone that it had been the entire evening. This caused Mercedes's almost smug happiness to diminish slightly.

"Right. Perfectly business." She forced a smile and closed her notebook. "We can resume this tomorrow at, say, nine in the morning?" At his stiff nod, she sighed. "Great. I'll um, just go over this information between then." She stood, causing - by manners - her guest to stand as well. "Until tomorrow?" She stuck out her hand, which was shaken. "Good night, Mr. Cale. It's been a pleasure talking with you."

"Good night, Ms. Guevara. I promise that your daughter won't meet with unnecessary harm tonight." He managed to produce a small smile and headed for the door.

As he left, Mercedes couldn't help but become worried at what he meant by 'unnecessary harm.'

Crash

Logan was lucky to find the place without any suspicion from the local populace. Apparently everyone from 16 and up frequented the place. He didn't know why.

As soon as he entered, the 'music' blared at him, making him wince as it almost overloaded his already-sensitive hearing. The strobe lighting didn't help, either, for his search for Max. Thankfully, though, his body didn't go into seizure because of it. Manticore did something right after all, he wryly mused.

It was pretty easy to spot Max grinding with another guy on the dance floor once he got used to the lighting and learned to tune the music out. He understood the basic concepts of dancing, but this was definitely out of his depth - which consisted of waltzes and other such ballroom dancing material. This was new. Different. Most definitely risqué.

He must learn more. 

There was a brief hitch in his stride as Logan mentally stopped and corrected himself, but it was recovered quickly.  That is, I must learn more about this environment in order to become normal in my behaviour.  It seems that everyone my age knows about this, even if they don't participate, and so I must have at least a passing knowledge.  Content with his self-reasoning and his ability to twist the truth enough to hide his curiosity even from himself, he moved on. 

His gaze traveled along the writhing mass of people, seeing what were obviously the inexperienced and very experienced forms of this dance style. He began to realize the value of a pre-Pulse band flinging beats and incomprehensible lyrics into a pot and mixing them together, then publishing them for all the world to hear. In fact, the more he watched, the more he felt like he had to grab someone and lose himself completely –

What the hell are you thinking?! Manticore's remnants raged at him. This is entirely inappropriate behaviour, soldier!

But then his gaze settled on a particular girl in front of him, and all rational thought abandoned ship. She was an incredibly gorgeous girl, standing around 5'6", with medium-length, brown, curly hair and luminous velvety-brown eyes –

Oh, shit.  Logan was horrified at himself.  He stopped in his tracks, dimly registering in his mind that he had been heading in her direction, as if he were following a siren's song.  He chastised his thoughts, coming to the conclusion that this music had to be watched out for, because if he didn't, then he could do anything without realizing – including almost hitting on his employer's daughter.

Soldier!  It was as if he were back at Manticore, Lydecker looming over him while he carefully studied the point directly in front him.  He stood at attention unconsciously, drawing some curious looks from the passersby.  He didn't see them, though; the dressing-down had already started, and the surroundings were super-imposed, combined images of the barracks and the standard-issue office that Lydecker occupied.

You are a disgrace, X-5366!  You are not fit to lead a horse, you [slimy piece of toad shit], let alone hold a military designation of commanding officer!  Logan winced, the movement imperceptible to those he ignored around him.  I already knew you were worthless!  The phantom Lydecker stepped closer, not stopping until he was directly in Logan's face.  In a quiet voice he knew only the X-5 series could pick up, he murmured, I always regretted my decision to place you in charge.  For a second, the Manticore creation could have sworn that the colonel's eyes glinted maliciously – but he could only use his peripheral vision, so it was gone in an instant. 

I knew that X-5599 would have made a better leader.

By this time, Logan had gotten over his anger at himself, so the tirade abruptly stopped, the scenery reverting back to the original.  He couldn't help but feel, however, that his leader's parting barb had at least some modicum of truth behind it.  Logan wasn't well versed with depressive tendencies and how to react with them, but he was pretty sure that, if the last statement wasn't true, then it had been fabricated from his own suspicions and own occasional feelings of worthlessness at not doing his job properly.

The rigid posture melted away, leaving Logan slightly trembling and cursing the fact that he'd forgotten his bottle of pills back at the apartment with Maybel.  And, if he wasn't mistaken, his employer's daughter was heading his way.

Damn manners.

Max knew her fun time with her friends was over as soon as one of the said friends pointed out 'one real fine white brotha over there tempting Cindy to start battin' for the other team' standing on the balcony above the pit. The only males who could even attempt to capture one Original Cindy's attention had to be souped-up with enhanced DNA.

"Oh, this is so not shibby," she groaned as she reluctantly yet determinedly headed off the floor towards the figure.

"What? Did Original Cindy make a mistake? She thought pointing out a guy for you was a good thing." Cindy shot a confused look in Max's direction. It didn't matter, though, because the other female just shrugged it off and approached the stranger, leaving her bewildered friend to either follow or go get more beer. She tagged along to the best of her ability, but the other patrons of the club quickly separated them.

"What in the hell are you doing here, Logan?" Max demanded, yelling over the din.  She knew that his hearing would have been sensitive enough to hear a pin drop on the other side of the room, even with all of this noise, but the action of yelling made her feel better.  "Did I leave a green neon sign saying, 'Follow me!' flashing on my forehead? Why aren't you back at the house, giving my mother information or something?"  She had a nasty suspicion that her mother put him up to this whole thing, under the pretense of keeping her safe.  When will she realize that I don't want a boyfriend?!

Logan had to hesitate a few seconds before responding.  Not only was he still slightly chagrined that he'd been thinking about Mercedes's daughter with less than a protective slant, but his shaking was getting worse.  He knew that, in order to escape this place quickly, he had to get Max pissed off enough at him to leave in a huff.  So, he brought out his most effective weapon against the opposite sex.

He smiled.

"Oh, no way.  No fucking way."  Max growled deep in her throat while sending her best glare in his direction.  It didn't seem to faze him, blast it.  She spun on her heel and, grabbing Cindy by the arm – she'd just gotten there – she stormed back toward the bar.

The bartender, upon seeing the look of murderous intent that had appeared on her face, quickly poured a mug of beer and set it in front of the stool she plopped into just seconds later.  After the Pulse, no one cared about the legal drinking age.  As she gulped a hefty portion of the brew down, she vaguely spotted Cindy coming up to lean against the bar to her right.  Max ignored her, though, and took another swig.  The look of dawning understanding, if Max had seen it, would have been glared off her friend's face and left in the dirt.

Cindy could tell by her best boo's actions that she had a thing for the guy they'd just abandoned in the middle of the floor.  She wisely decided not to broach the subject directly; instead, she chose a safer, less-painful-all-around method.

"Ya… wanna talk about it?"  Her dark, chocolate brown gaze took in the mug rising yet again.  At this rate, she'll be plastered in just a few hours!

"There's nothing to say."  Max's tone suggested Cindy drop it, but she wasn't that easily swayed.  In fact, she stared to get angry at her friend's stubbornness.

"Hell no!"  Glare.  "You be actin' all whack 'n shit in front of a guy that, by all appearances, is just tryin' to be nice.  Then, you do an about-face, grab the nearest beer, and start gulpin' that cheap-ass shit down like there'll be no more left in the world by tomorrow morning!"  She paused for a breath and to examine the face of her companion before she continued.  "Girl…" Sigh.  "We gotta have a talk, otherwise it's gonna eat at you from the inside."

"Whatever."  Gulp.  Scowl.

"Maxwell Emily Guevera!"  The use of her full name apparently shocked Max enough into meeting Cindy's eye.  "You like him; don't deny it.  That's why you be drinkin' more'n usual."  She flipped a few bills down onto the counter and slipped into her jacket.  Seattle still got chilly in late spring.

Max watched in a sort of frustrated amusement.  She knew Cindy well enough to tell when she wouldn't give up, and this so happened to be one of those times.  And even though she knew they were heading there anyway, she offered the use of her place and her stash of wine coolers for the rest of the night's "entertainment."

The black woman grinned as Max followed her lead and got ready to leave.  "Much better.  Now; let's blaze."

Max nodded absently, thinking that she rather liked that phrase.  "Yeah.  Blaze."

Finally.  Logan watched the pair slip out of the joint with relief.  It was just a short trip back to the Gueveras' – to make sure they got back safely, of course - and then only a 15-minute jog back to his place, which housed his much-needed tryptophan.

As he followed them, a small part of his brain was dedicated to piecing together what had just happened, including Max's reactions, his own responses, and what Max's best friend – by all appearances – had said. 

Yes, he was still immeasurably remorseful of his impulses from earlier, but even though most of it was locked away so he could deal with it later, the addition of Max liking him in the physical sense was making it just that much more difficult. 

Damn voluntary jobs.  They always got him in trouble.

Author's Note: Even though I'm posting this today (Aug 15th), it was done by July 28th.  I just didn't have the time to post, or, to be more accurate, I forgot about it once I got it finished, heh.  -_-  Sorry!  But hey, it's just a re-write, and I doubt anyone will go back and read it, so…!  ^^  This is kinda pointless.  However, this chapter went from 2141 words to 2665, and no, that's /not/ including the AN, bwa.

In this chapter, I changed the Crash scene, because frankly, it sucked.  I also have credence to a little subplot that's sorta intro'd in "Brothers in Arms," or Chapter Five.  If you're not fluent with the X-5's numbers, "X-5599" means Zack.  Yes, that has meaning later on.  If you've visited my archive for 'Reverse' (http://www.angelfire.com/wa/DesertRose/reverse/index.html) you've probably noticed the little hints I've been giving people, such as "Insane!Zack turned into Nice!Zack and there was nothing I could do about it!"  Pay attention to these hints!  They're very important later on.  ^.~