Author's Note: Sorry about the massive delay everyone. Taking care of everything after I got back from vacation has kept me so busy I haven't been able to get online for over a week. I thank everyone that has stuck with me. Hope this is worth the wait. If I do everything with this story I intend to it's gonna be a long one. Well, enough of this; on with the story.

Chapter 3

I park my motorcycle next to Logan's Aztek in the parking garage under Fogle Towers and I take the elevator up to his apartment. I know I've got to be grinning like an idiot right now. I'm damn near giddy at the thought of finally getting rid of the virus, and giddy is so not something I'm used to being.

I let myself into the dark apartment and am met with deafening silence. There's no tapping of fingers on a keyboard, no rattling of pots and pans, not even the soft sound of turning pages. I look at the clock on the desk as I pass by. 4:38 am. The sun won't be up for at least another hour and neither will Logan if the amount of papers on his desk and the still on computer indicate anything about the time he finally gave in to his need for sleep. I need to make sure he takes better care of himself. Once this whole virus dealio is behind us I don't want him dropping dead on me from too much work.

Several light footsteps bring me to his bedroom door. With my Manticore issue ears I can hear his soft, even breathing through the thin material separating us. Silently, I slid the door out of the way and I slip through into the room. This section of the apartment is decorated much like the rest, minimal furniture, natural materials, and strong, straight lines. What makes it special is that it's Logan's personal space, a space that only a select few have been let into, myself being one of them of course.

I stand there, a look of all-encompassing awe streaked across my face, and my gaze is locked on the handsome, sleeping form lying in the bed in front of me. Of all the times I've been in this room, few of those times have I been in here at the same time as Logan. I can't help but think how much I hope that changes in the future.

He's lying there with his head on the white pillow, his face turned toward me. I move as close to his side as I dare, just out of arm's length, and kneel so I can study him better. I don't know when I last had the chance to watch him like this. He smiles in his sleep as I settle into a comfortable position almost like he knows I'm there. Yeah, I know, wishful thinking on my part, but hey, a girl can dream can't she? It looks like's been a while since he shaved last and it makes him look more like my Logan, like the picture of him in my mind from last year that kept me strong while I was trapped at Manticore. There may be a few more worry lines creasing his face during the day now, the ones I know he doesn't want me to notice, but right now there is only much-deserved peace resting there.

I catch myself starting to inch my way closer to the bed. I know I can't reach out and touch his face right now, no matter how badly I want to. The knowledge that if this thing with the nanocytes works out I'll be able to whenever I get the urge gives me the strength I need to back away. I look around and decide to sit on the top of the dresser to wait 'til Logan wakes up. It seems like an adequate compromise for both my heart and my head, close enough I can still see every detail of his face but far enough away that I won't let myself go and touch him.

While I'm sitting here waiting I think about all the time I've spent in this apartment in the last two years, all the memories that have been made, and all the memories that might be in the near future. I can see Logan and I having dinner together like we used to. I can see us playing chess all afternoon. I can see us in front of his window, me sitting in his lap while we watch the sun come up over Seattle. I can see us doing lots of things, but most of all; I can see us dancing for hours on end. They're all things I've thought about us doing at least a thousand times, but with the prospect of hope has come a new clarity to images in my head.

I've been so wrapped up in my little fantasy land I didn't notice the rather extensive amount of time that has passed. The only thing that manages to break into my thoughts is the sound of a semi-conscious Logan reaching to the bedside table for his glasses. I've got to curb this fugue state thing; it's becoming a habit.

When he gets his glasses on he moves to sit up in bed. He must have caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye 'cause I'm not sure I've ever seen him that startled. He turns him head to look me square in the face, probably to make sure it's really me he saw.

I see his shoulders relax and he tries to catch breath as he says, "God Max, you startled me."

"I can see that." I say in response. Yes, I'm stalling. I can't wait to tell him my news, but I spent all my time thinking about the after effects instead of focusing on this conversation. I have no idea how I'm gonna go about this. Guess I'll just have to make it up as I go along.

"What's wrong?" he asks clearly concerned.

"Nothing. How come something has to be wrong?" I counter as my head tilts to the side.

"Well, when someone is in your room, waiting for you to wake up, at all of 6:27 in the morning there's usually something bad going on. If nothing is wrong, then what is up Max?" Damn, I didn't realize it was almost 6:30 already. I must have really been off in my own little world earlier.

"You know, you should really get more sleep. You're way short of eight hours." I'm still stalling, but at least I'm slowly getting up the courage to get to my actual reason for the visit. I can deal with the Reds, Manticore, and Ames White, but the thought of being this open with Logan still terrifies me, go figure.

"This coming from the woman who might sleep eight hours in two weeks. And from the woman who is mysteriously stalling." Hope what courage I've pulled up from my toes will be enough, 'cause it's now or never.

"Okay. Well, I may have figured out a way to possibly get rid of the virus." I pause to gauge his reaction. Curious but guarded and apprehensive, I can live with that. "There probably is no way to kill the virus in me, but there may be a way to make you immune. It might not work, but I think it's the best shot we're likely to get."

He still has the same look on his face, but I can see hope starting to build in his eyes. "So how do you think we might be able do this?"

"I talked to Sam Carr about using the nanocytes that he took out of Zack. He said if we inject them into you and gave them time to replicate they should protect you against the virus; sort of like an invincible line of defense If it didn't do that, they would still fix the nerve damage from the shooting." I continue.

"So we could touch and I could walk without the exo." The hope I saw in his eyes is now obvious in his voice as well. The stray thought occurs to me that this must have been what he was like on Christmas morning as a child.

"Supposedly. It's your decision if you want to put all that Manticore hardware in your system." My grin from earlier is back, but now it is answered by one of his.

I hop down off the place on the dresser I've been occupying for quite some time. I look at his face once again and see that his grin has transformed into a full-blown smile that takes up most of his face. He reaches toward the bedding to fling it away and says, "Give me a minute to get dressed then we can go. We've got a doctor to see."