Disclaimer: Still not mine, so bite me.

A/N: Okay, finally... here it is. I apologize that it took me a while to write this. I was very busy, and my muse disappeared for a while. Then, when my muse showed up again, in the form of Barber's "Adagio," she insisted that I write The Choice first (it's the perfect song for that story, trust me). I'm serious, I couldn't write anything else. Even after I finished it, I had a hard time with this chapter. Nevertheless, 16 is done, and I'm nearing the end, I can feel it, which is good, because I have another story in the works. Stick we me, chaps and chapesses, we're almost home.

Chapter 16: Scarface

Silence. Darkness. Gun. Silence. Darkness. Gun. Silence… no, not silence. Breathing. Not his. Calm, even, steady breathing. Breathing. His own breathing. Not calm… scared. The gun never moved, never wavered. Not even a flicker of light interrupted the oppressive darkness. The air was thick, heavy, too warm… stifling.

Logan tried to keep his body completely still. He tried to keep his breathing calm. He couldn't control the frenzied rhythm of his heart, or the moisture collecting under his palms, but he could control his breathing. He fought the urge to turn and confront his antagonist. No sudden moves, no sudden moves, no sudden moves… He reminded himself to stay calm. If he was supposed to dead, he'd be dead. Something else was going on.

Max. Where was Max? All intentions of staying calm and collected were forgotten in a flash when the memory caught up to him. Max, on the ground, a bullet through her chest. No. He forced the memory away. She was alright. She had to be, but where was she? She was in the room, or at least she had been… One guy with a gun wasn't going to get past her. Where was she?

He lost all sense of time as he lay there. It was too much. He was trying to control his breathing, his body, and his thoughts. He was trying not to aggravate whomever it was that held the weapon to his head, but it was exhausting. Finally, he just couldn't stand it anymore.

"May I ask what you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice surprisingly firm and loud in the darkness.

The gun bearer started, and in that instant, Logan was sure he was going to die. The trigger would be pulled, and his life would be over in a flash. He'd be nothing more than bloody pulp at this distance. Then, to his complete surprise and ultimate exasperation, the man laughed. It was a man, that much was certain. His laugh was deep and harsh. A man who could laugh with a gun to another man's head was obviously not an amateur. So, now Logan knew two things about his assailant, three if he counted the fact that he obviously didn't want him dead just yet.

"I'm waiting for your girlfriend, Logan," the man replied. Shit. The guy knew his name. That was never, ever a good sign.

"Okay," Logan tried to reason, "Can we turn on a light or something. This sitting in the dark thing…"

"Nice try, but I don't think so."

Logan tried again, "You want to tell me why we're waiting for my girlfriend?"

"The man wants to talk to her."

"Patterson."

"Yeah, that's the one. He says he wants to have a chat with her, and I've got to deliver."

So, this wasn't exactly what Logan had expected when he woke up, but, then again, it wasn't all bad. The man didn't have orders to kill Max. Patterson wanted her alive. At that moment, Logan didn't care that the gun was still pointed at him. He really just wanted to know what Patterson knew. Was this a "she screwed my kid, I want to talk to her" cement shoes deal, or was this a "let's see what this Manticore thing is before we kill her" deal? He didn't know, and he had a feeling that Pattersons' heat-packing lackey didn't either.

At the sound of a pretty, tinkling laugh outside the door, both men froze. Max was outside. It was her laugh, only… it wasn't. It was Grazia's laugh. Did she... could she know what was going on inside? Was it a signal? A warning? In the silence that followed, they heard the distinctive swipe-click of the keycard lock. The man beside Logan moved slightly, trying for, Logan could only assume, a better view of the door. He rustled about quickly, the gun moving from Logan's skin for only an instant, before it returned with a sharp jab. As the door slowly opened, allowing a small shaft of light from the streetlights outside, Logan saw that the man was holding another gun, and it was pointed at the door.

Then, in a flash the door was open, the lights were on, and Alec stood in the doorway with his own gun pointed at Logan's new friend. The two armed men stared each other down, calculating each other's chances and advantages. Finally, the man growled and dropped the gun aimed at the doorway, but he kept the one next to Logan's head. Logan hadn't thought it was possible, but the atmosphere in the room seemed to have actually become heavier.

"That one two," Alec ordered, but not until after taking what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time analyzing the situation. Patterson's man hesitated, so Alec took a few steps forward. He didn't wave his gun about, but kept it carefully trained on his target. He knew exactly what he was doing, and there was no questioning it.

"You know your orders aren't to kill him, so put the gun down," Max said quietly, appearing in the doorway. She nodded slightly to Logan, whose eyes were finally adjusting to the light in the room. He would have nodded back, but the gun made it difficult, so he chose not to try. At least the gun was trained on him. The man wouldn't dare take his aim from Logan in order to point it at Max.

"My orders are to take you with me, no matter what I have to do."

Max shrugged, "All you had to do was ask. That was the plan anyway."

"Oh…" The moment of confusion was all she needed. He relaxed his hand on the gun, hesitant, and, in an instant, Max had the gun in her hand, swiping it from his temporarily lax fingers, and bending his hand back with a good amount of force. The man howled with pain, but Max ignored him. With a look of disgust, she handed the offensive weapon to Alec, who still had his own weapon trained on the now defenseless intruder.

"Get up," Max ordered. Her demeanor was threatening, almost angry. Rather than face her wrath, the man did as he was told. At least he wasn't a total idiot. She gestured for him to walk toward Alec, and he again obeyed. Alec, much to Logan's satisfaction, smacked the guy's head into the doorframe, immediately knocking him unconscious.

It was only as his attacker sank to the ground that Logan allowed himself to relax. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and let the moment sink in. He was okay. Max was okay. God, he was tired.

"Hey," Max said quietly as she sat down next to him on the bed. He sat up, allowing his cramping limbs to move for the first time. "You okay?" Her fingers rested just above his knee, and there was concern written all over her features.

"I'll grab some duct tape," Alec muttered, leaving the room.

Despite the unconscious thug on the floor, despite the fact that they were in the middle of something very tense and very dangerous, and despite the fact that Alec could return at any moment, Logan grabbed her and kissed her for all he was worth. The horror of those minutes when he'd thought something had happened to her, the stress of the last half-hour, the adrenaline running through his veins, they all need an outlet. He curled his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer, shivering when she moaned into his mouth. God, he wished they weren't in the middle of a mission…

"Break it up!" Alec announced as he entered the room. "We've got to get this guy tied up."

"Right," Max agreed, averting Logan's eyes as a deep blush crept into her cheeks. Unbelievable… Max was blushing. With another sigh, Logan watched as the two X5s bound and gagged the man, whose face Logan saw for the first time. He was younger than Logan expected, maybe twenty-seven. He also had a large, jagged scar running from his chin to his ear.

"What's your name?" Max asked, not unkindly.

"What do you care?" the newly revived, and still rather groggy, thug asked. He was sitting on the bed, his hands taped behind him, and his feet tied to the leg of the bed frame. Alec had left to check on the slumbering Patterson heir, leaving Max and Logan to interrogate the interloper.

"I like to put a name with a face," Max smiled sweetly.

"Tough, babe." Logan winced, knowing full well that Max absolutely hated being called pet names, especially by the bad guys. He hid a smile as she glided forward and gave the cheeky jerk a hard smack over the head. He winced, and she gave him one of her dangerous smiles.

"What's your name?" she asked again, slower this time, as if addressing a child. The man remained silent, so Max shrugged. She moved across the room to where Logan was sitting at the small table by the window. He was watching the interrogation from behind, analyzing the guys posture, the tension in his shoulders. He was also watching every emotion that crossed Max's features. After more than two years, he could tell what was coming from each smile, each flash of her eyes.

"He says his name's Scarface," Max shrugged playfully, but there was an underlying tension in her action.

"Scarface," Logan addressed the man's back. "When does Patterson expect you back?"

"Daybreak."

Max reached over and pushed back Logan's sleeve. She glanced at the watch, and he followed her gaze. It was almost 4:30 in the morning. As if prompted by the reminder of the hour, Logan yawned. If only they had enough time for a nap… Max seemed to be able to read his mind, because she laughed slightly, and nudged him.

"You could stay here," she suggested. "Get some rest. It's not every day you wake up with a gun in your face."

"I'm not staying behind," he replied calmly. There was no way he was going to let Max go anywhere near that freak Patterson until they knew exactly what they were dealing with. All three were going in, and he wasn't going to rethink his decision. He had his gun, and his exo was in the trunk, folded under a blanket. With a little bit of luck they'd all be fine.

The sky was just beginning to lighten when Max and Logan lugged Scarface out of the hotel room. In the early morning air, their footsteps echoed around the hotel grounds. They moved quickly toward the car, hoping that the other guests were still asleep in their beds. Anyone who happened to look outside at that moment would have been surprised to see a large man, his hands bound and duct tape around his mouth, being dragged by a small woman with a very large scowl on her face.

As Max shoved the big man into the backseat, Logan watched the door to Alec and Will's room. The two soon appeared, Alec as jaunty as ever, while Will lagged behind. Will looked like he hadn't slept for days. Large purple bags ringed his eyes, and his step was sluggish. There was no way he was ready to go back into his father's house. He was going to break down, Logan could see it. He'd seen it before.

In fact, the very first words Will spoke were "What the holy fuck?" An outburst which prompted Max to clap her hand over his mouth, and hiss not very nice things into his ear, but he didn't seem to hear anything she said. Instead, he was staring at Scarface with a terrified look in his eyes. Under the duct tape, Scarface seemed to be smiling.

"What now?" Alec sighed impatiently.

"That's the guy," Will stuttered as soon as Max removed her hand. "That's the guy my Dad killed!"

From behind the layer of duct tape, Scarface laughed.

TBC...