New World, Old Ghosts
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Dark Angel, just the
thoughts in my head. Oh, and I'm kind of partial to Maggie, so could you please
ask me first if you want to use her?
Rating: PG-13
Email: hhinam@hotmail.com
Archiving: Please ask first.
Summary: Max and Logan come to the aid of a beleaguered cousin, while dealing
with their own issues.
Spoilers: Post-Female Trouble, but this story has taken on a
life of its own heading off in a completely different direction from the show.
Author's notes: Thank you so much to all of you who are patient
enough to follow this story. I'm flattered that you keep reading. It really is
what keeps me writing. Remember, what
they say, "Patience in all things" I'm a good way into chapter 4 so maybe it
won't take me as long this time. Yeah, I know I've said it before. Life just
keeps getting in the way. Drop me a line anytime. I love feedback of all kinds,
especially constructive.
*Thanks to Chris for her always insightful and entertaining edits. Who'd
a though one comment about Vancouver would lead to this?
*Thanks to Joy B. for her support and for not laughing too hard when a
spelling mistake totally ruins the moment. Having you sitting on my deck
editing this was such a wonderful thing. Hope to see you again soon.
*Thanks also to Ana, Lindsey and Dani, for your support and prodding in
my writing and the rest of my life.
Chapter 3
***
The gathering breeze coaxed the aspen leaves into a dance on their flatted stems, flashing their silver undersides in the late afternoon sun. A Great Blue Heron cruised silently above the surface of the lake, its long, thin legs trailing gracefully behind, before settling into a clump of reeds near the dock. The rattling of a kingfisher echoed across the valley as a blur of flashing wings fluttered from one tree to the next. The lengthening rays of daylight danced across the rippled water and streamed into the lodge windows, glinting off a wet plate as Logan handed the dish into Max's waiting hands.
After an early supper, Logan and Max had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen, leaving Maggie to tend to her patients and prepare the horses for the trip out of the valley. The couple now washed dishes in silence, save for the slosh of Logan's washcloth and the sound of rustling leaves through the window. To the outside observer, it was a picture of domestic peace, but the air between them hung heavy, brooding with unasked and unanswered questions.
Logan's muscles tensed with each passing minute but not from his awkward position at the sink's edge. The afternoon's planning had not gone well. Max had grown more sullen as the day had progressed, Maggie kept pushing the idea of getting Logan on a horse and he kept brushing her off. With every rejection, he noticed Max stiffen and felt her retreat even further. He didn't know where he had gone wrong. He didn't kid himself; he knew he was the source of her anger, but he just couldn't figure her out.
For the first time since he'd landed back in the chair, Logan had felt good. He had a purpose, and he and Max had been slowly slipping back into their old routine. He didn't feel like she was tiptoeing around him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. They had found their place with each other again, and Logan had felt, for the first time in a while, that things with Max were going to be fine. But then something set her off, and with each hour, he felt her slipping further away. Now, he cringed with every movement of her body. Logan could feel the tension rolling off her and the silence was deafening, like the proverbial calm before an encroaching storm. Normally he tried to avoid Max's wrath, after their fight that nearly had her walk out his door forever, but her refusal to speak fuelled his own frustration and he couldn't take it any more.
"Max. What is it?"
"What is what?" Max answered nonchalantly, inspecting a chipped plate especially closely.
"What's wrong?" Logan pressed, bracing himself for her eventual outburst.
"Nothing." Her voice was carefully measured, devoid of emotion.
"Just tell me what's bothering you." Logan pleaded.
"What makes you think anything is wrong?"
"Max, for God's sake, stop being so childish and just tell me what's wrong."
At Logan's words, Max went rigid. A grim smile crept across Logan's face. He'd finally struck a nerve.
"I'm being childish?" Her voice was almost eerily quiet, controlled, as she trained her gaze out the window, her hands gripping the tea towel. "I'm not the one who's been moping around all week like the world's coming to an end."
Logan's back went up at her accusation. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Dammit, Logan! You're the king of denial!" Max spun around to face him, her dark eyes blazing. "You'd rather blow your brains out than admit that something's wrong!" Days of pent up frustration, and fury brought on by fear, came pouring out in her words.
Shame and dread crept over Logan. He didn't want to talk about his worst moment of weakness, especially with Max. He trained his eyes on the floor, afraid to see the disappointment in her face.
Max knelt in front of him in an attempt to look up into his face. She desperately wanted to know what had been going on in his head seven days ago, why he decided his life wasn't worth living anymore, why he hadn't realized how much losing him would've hurt her. He had scared the hell out of her, and she didn't like being scared.
"Logan," she continued, a little less harshly, almost afraid to ask the one question that had been haunting her for the last week. "Would you have done it? I mean…if you hadn't been interrupted. Would you have pulled the trigger?" Max braced herself for answer. For the second time this week, she felt an irrational fear seep into her bones. She was back in Dr. Vertes' office, staring at the psychological evaluation at the words 'despondent' and 'suicidal tendencies', and all she wanted to do was to race across town to know that Logan was alright, that the doctor had been wrong, that the one person she turned to for strength and stability in her life wasn't coming unravelled before her eyes. The realization that she needed his reassurance that everything was going to be alright only fuelled her anger and frustration. Before she had met Logan, she had never needed reassurances from anyone.
Still refusing to meet her gaze, Logan gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white. His voice barely a whisper, he answered her desperate query. "Yes."
Max felt like she herself had been shot. She staggered back to her feet and rose to her full height. "Dammit, Logan! What the hell is the matter with you?" She backed away another step. Her knees threatened to betray her as she held on to the counter for support. "Do you have any idea what you would've done? Death is final, Logan; there's no coming back." She fought to keep her voice steady as her emotions whirled into an ever-increasing storm. "What did you think you were doing, committing some noble sacrifice?"
Logan raised his head and met her gaze, his eyes cold with defiance. He was backed into a corner of his feelings he didn't want to face and he was determined to fight his way out.
"Max, you're a God-damned superhero. How could you possibly know what I'm going through?" he growled, trying to wheel past her, only to be stopped by her hand on his shoulder. He tensed visibly at her touch.
"I might be able to at least try to understand if you would just talk to me!" she spat back, uncaring of how far the sounds of their argument carried out the window. "Logan, I've always been open with you. I've told you things I don't even like to remind myself of." She suppressed an involuntary shudder at the realization of just how much she had opened her heart to the man seated before her. She also came to the realization that with all he knew about her and despite all the time they had spent together, she really knew very little about Logan, and her anger flared again. "But with you, I have to fight to get you just to talk." With that, her face softened, imploring him to open up, to help her understand why his pain ran so deep, why this life just wasn't enough anymore, and why she wasn't enough. "Why won't you let me help you?" She wanted to throw caution to the wind and wrap her arms around him and tell him just how much he meant to her. That if he had killed himself, he would have killed her too. Fear and pride, however, kept her words in check.
"Fine!" Logan snapped, but he too lowered his voice as he continued, avoiding her gaze like it would burn him. His arguments seemed utterly stupid in the light of day with Max standing in front of him, reminding him of all he held dear. His stubborn pride refused to back down from an argument, so he pressed on, "All I've worked for, all I ever wanted was given to me, dangled in front of me like a carrot, then snatched away like a cruel joke. I told you; nothing matters more to me than getting out of this chair. Nothing. Now, that'll never happen. I can't walk, can't run, can't dance, and I can't even do my own legwork. I literally am Eyes Only. I'm useless like this…" 'to you' he finished in his mind. His words sounded tired, but he was afraid to admit to her the real reason for his despair. He was afraid of the rejection he was sure he would face.
Max stared at him disbelievingly. She couldn't accept that just his loss of mobility was enough to kill himself. His eyes told her there was something more, and she wanted to call him on it.
"I've never heard such a load of selfish crap!" Logan recoiled from her words like he had been stung. Max's frustration returned with a vengeance. His words in the car last week had hurt the first time. This time around, they struck even deeper. "So you're saying you care more about your damned bodily functions than the people who care about you? There's nothing wrong with your mind…your heart…" She caught herself, still unwilling to wade into the emotional waters too deep.
"Since when did you care, Max? I thought it was all just phoney sentimentality." Logan knew he had crossed the line, but he wanted to hurt Max as much as she'd hurt him. But, before he could register her reaction, the palm of her hand collided with his face, sending him teetering. He opened his eyes painfully and found himself staring into two dark brown pools, cold with fury and clouded with hurt.
"Fine," she seethed. Logan flinched; knowing the pain in her voice was his fault. "So why haven't you tried to finish the job?"
Despite the growing pain in his heart, Logan's stubborn head just had to have the last word, no matter how out of control things had become. "Because you and Bling won't let me out of your sight for five minutes!" he shot back, knowing full well it was a lie.
"You want to be alone?" Her voice was a deadly whisper and Logan felt fear return, only for a different reason. "I'll leave you alone." Max flung the wet tea towel at him with a tremendous force, spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen.
***
Max took the steps to the second floor two at a time, her eyes clouded with the tears she had finally allowed to escape her lashes. She wasn't going to let Logan see just how much he had hurt her. Her mind was spinning and her heart felt sick. 'Did he really mean all that?' she kept asking herself over and over. 'It was a just a stupid argument' her rational side comforted. 'It just got out of control.' She chided herself for being so insensitive when he finally tried to share his fears. It had just seemed so ludicrous to her. 'Logan could never be useless, not to me.' He was right, she couldn't understand what he was going through, but she desperately wanted to make him see how much he meant to her. Now she wasn't sure she'd be able to do that, let alone repair the damage from the last few minutes. She cursed her Manticore training. It had been drilled into their heads for years that emotions were weaknesses. For the last week she'd been riding an emotional roller coaster: fear, anger, relief and this strange tingling in the pit of her stomach when Logan had returned her hug that she was too afraid to name. 'Some perfect soldier! I'm too much of a coward to tell a man what he means to me, even if it could save his life!'
Suddenly, as she reached the door of her bedroom, an uncontrollable wave of weakness washed over her, sending Max to her knees. She let loose a muffled cry of frustration as she felt the seizure take over. Hadn't she suffered enough indignities in the last half hour? But this was unlike all her other seizures. An overpowering nausea engulfed her and she fiercely fought the urge to vomit. Her skin went cold and felt like she was being prodded with a million pins and needles. Her mind began to fog over but the usual nightmares didn't come, only a disturbing empty blackness that threatened to overtake her completely. Shakily, she fought the darkness as she grasped the brass doorknob and heaved herself to her feet. Her breath came in short sobs as she dragged herself to the bed.
Her legs betrayed her yet again and she fell forward, landing halfway onto the mattress. Her body screamed out in pain, but she refused to call for help, not now. She flung her left arm out and felt around on the bedside table, searching for her bottle of tryptophan. Her fingers connected with the plastic bottle and she tipped it onto the bed. She had never lost control of herself to such a degree and she was terrified. Rolling onto her back, she grasped the bottle tightly in one hand while the other clumsily removed the cap. Finally, she tossed back a large amount of pills and swallowed painfully. Dropping the rest of the bottle unnoticed onto the bed, she lay back against the mountain of soft feather pillows and pulled the patchwork quilts up to her chin. Small rivulets of tears escaped her lashes as she closed her eyes and finally surrendered to the blackness.
***
Logan slumped back in his chair, frustrated and spent, clutching the damp towel. He turned back to the sink. The bubbles had long since dissipated and the water was now tepid. He reached in and grabbed a plate. As be brought it up to dry, he caught his reflection in the shimmering surface. He felt hot tears sting his eyes as their words from before washed over him and actually sunk in. 'You want to be alone? I'll leave you alone!' That was it; Max was leaving him for good this time. In one moment, he'd managed to destroy everything that meant anything to him, all for the sake of his pride. A cry of anguish burst forth as he flung the dish across the room and buried his face in his hands.
As the rattle of shattered crockery subsided, another softer sound met his ears… humming. Logan glanced up and watched Maggie stroll into the kitchen, humming happily to herself. Apparently oblivious to her cousin's state, she strode over to the far wall and hunkered down to clean up the pieces of the plate. As she worked, her humming bloomed into a song.
"I am a rock. I am an island…"
Knowing where she was going with this, Logan grumbled. "Maggie, I'm in no mood for pop-psychology à la Simon and Garfunkle."
Maggie ignored him as she stood up and grabbed a broom from the corner by the cook stove and swept up the remaining shards, still singing. "I have my books. And my poetry to protect me."
"Maggie…"
"I am shielded in my armour. Hiding in my room…"
"Maggie…"
"Safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me…"
"O.K! That's enough!" Logan yelled. "I get the picture!"
Maggie stopped singing and shot him a glance over her shoulder. "Oh. Do you really?"
Logan stared silently at her, bracing for yet another argument, as she came around behind him. A sharp slap to the back of his head snapped him out of his thoughts. "Ow! What the hell did you do that for?" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head.
"That," Maggie answered sharply, but grinning, "is for breaking one of my good dishes, and this," she continued as she swatted him again, "is for being a complete idiot."
Logan glared up at his cousin, still favouring the back of his skull. As she defiantly returned his gaze he sighed resignedly, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough."
"Look, Maggie…"
She immediately became serious again. "You were thinking about suicide?" Logan flinched visibly at the word. Her voice jumped up an octave as she continued. "Why?" She sounded like the little cousin he remembered from his childhood, the one he had shared all his secrets with. Looking at her now, he could see the pain and struggle of her relatively short life etched on her face; searching for the acceptance she never got from her family, fighting for a foothold in a male-dominated profession, surviving the pulse, fending off loggers and now losing Simon. She suddenly looked tired and fragile, something she had never been, and he mentally flagellated himself for causing her more pain now with his own problems.
Wishing he could drop the subject he answered, "You couldn't understand Maggie."
That was the wrong answer.
"Why? Because I don't know what it's like to be different? To be placated and patronized and looked at like I'm a freak? You're right, I haven't a clue what you're going through." Maggie fought to maintain her sense of humour. She didn't want to start another argument. "So you can't walk? So what?"
"I'm only half a man," Logan answered. The words sounded tired and hollow even to his own ears.
"Good lord! What is it with men always thinking with their groin? Must be all that testosterone." She was grinning fully now. Tapping Logan's head gently, she said "Your brain's up here, in case you've forgotten." Even Logan had to suppress a chuckle at her words.
Settling herself cross-legged on the kitchen floor, she looked up at Logan expectantly. "So what's the real problem here? Let me guess. Max."
Logan immediately replied, "We're not like that."
Maggie rolled her eyes. "Gee, that sounds familiar. What, did you suddenly become blind as well as paraplegic?" When he didn't answer, she continued. "Look, Logan, I've been hearing about Max for what, eight months now?" Logan nodded. "You haven't been able to stop talking about her since you met. Now that I see you two together, it's obvious that there's something there. You have this amazing woman in your life, who obviously cares a great deal about you and, for some unknown reason, puts up with your self-loathing crap. Thing is, if you keep pushing her away when things even get the least bit tough, one of these days she's not going to come back."
Logan winced as Max's last words to him replayed in his mind once again. "I think I may have accomplished that this time," he answered, lowering his eyes in defeat.
Maggie smiled. "There, I've made my point. This never would've escalated into an argument if she didn't care."
Logan eyes clouded with memories of all the moments he had wished he wasn't tethered to his chair, and they all centred on Max; walking in the park in the rain, the day she'd left with Zack to escape capture. Standing next to her on the beach, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, had felt more right that anything in his life, and now it was just a distant memory. "She deserves better than me, someone who can walk next to her, who can run with her…"
"Do I need to hit you again?" Maggie snapped jokingly, breaking him out of his reverie.
"What?" Logan asked, as his hand flew involuntarily to the back of his head.
"Having functional legs does not a relationship make. Do you honestly think if Max had a problem with you being in a wheelchair she'd still be here eight months later?"
For the first time, Logan didn't have an answer. Maggie took it as a cue to continue. "Look, it's obvious that you two care for each other, probably more than either of you realize, but nothing's going to happen unless you get over this ridiculous notion that being paralysed means you can't have a relationship and be honest with her about how you feel."
Logan could feel the fear seep again into his heart. "What if she doesn't feel the same way?" He wasn't sure he was ready to lay his heart on the table. He didn't think he could take another blow.
Maggie's eyes softened as she looked up at him. The sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted his face, picking up every plane and crevice and each individual hair in his ever-present five-o'clock shadow. In the golden light he suddenly looked older, tired, his eyes dull, the fire behind them extinguished by too many tears. She swallowed a growing lump in her throat as she realized just how much they had suffered in the last seven years. Maybe if they could get through this they'd be O.K.
Standing, she covered his hands with her own. "That's a chance you're going to have to take if you ever want to get anywhere with Max. I know it's terrifying, especially with what happened with Valerie, but you're a good man Logan, walking or not. You deserve to be happy. Just don't wait until it's too late."
Logan caught a brief flicker of sadness cross his cousin's face, like a cloud momentarily obscuring the sun, but as quickly as it appeared, it passed. Taking a deep breath, he caught her hands in his own and squeezed gently. "Thank you," he answered earnestly, then chuckling softly he joked, "When did you suddenly get so smart?"
"Must be all those degrees I have. I knew they had to be good for something," she answered with a grin, as she gently took the tea towel from his hands, smiling sadly at the damp spot that had formed unnoticed on his shirt. "Now go get some rest; I'll finish up here. It's going to be a long night."
***
The flavourful aroma of freshly brewed coffee lapped at Max's senses, dragging her back into the conscious world. She stretched her knotted muscles, alternately pointing and curling her toes, and rolled over towards the source of the odour. Her eyes still closed, she inhaled deeply. As the delicious steam filled her, one word came to mind: Logan. She found herself transported back to the countless quiet nights in Logan's immaculate living room silently offering each other company over a fresh cup of coffee, or a fine pre-pulse wine, both rarities in this broken economy that only he could provide.
As her eyes fluttered open, the image of his shining hardwood floors and the crisp lines of his furniture faded into the honey hues of pine panelling and the soft contours of patchwork quilts. Momentarily disoriented, Max shot up in bed and surveyed her surroundings. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the quilt as the memory of the last few hours came back in a wave, the anger and hurt from her argument with Logan to the pain and fear of her seizure. All of it washed over her and she shook her head violently, as if she could physically shake off her feelings.
She once again focussed on the steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table. A small piece of paper, neatly folded next to it caught her eye. It was sandwiched between the mug and a plate of what looked like oatmeal cookies. She couldn't help but smile as she surveyed the note. The handwriting was similar to Logan's but with more of a flourish, much like she would've guessed Maggie's style to be. She reached for a cookie as she read,
Thought you could probably use a
bit of a pick me up.
Let me know if you need
anything.
See you downstairs.
M
She sighed in appreciation as she bit into the soft and chewy treat. She reached for another as she washed down the first with a swig of coffee. Her snack finished, Max forced her reluctant legs to move and slipped out of bed, immediately missing its warm softness. A little unsteadily, she padded down the corridor to the bathroom. The sight that met her in the mirror stopped her cold. She looked worn, her face drawn with fatigue and the pain from the seizure, the trails of long-spent tears etched across her cheeks.
Sighing heavily, Mac closed her eyes as Logan's words once again assaulted her heart. 'Since when did you care, Max? I thought it was all just phoney sentimentality.' Of all that had been said and implied, those simple words cut like a knife through her soul. Did Logan really think that she didn't care… that she couldn't care? He had once called her a genetically-enhanced killing machine. Of course, he had been joking at the time, but deep down, did he believe it? Was there actually some truth to it?
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with images from Manticore, of relentless training and drills and death. For a good part of her life she had been, in essence, nothing but a machine, going through the motions, but never actually living. Even after the escape, she was just surviving, like a hunted animal, always on the move to avoid detection, never becoming too attached, never having a home.
Something changed when she came to Seattle three years ago. Her desire to put down roots started winning the battles with her inbred fear of capture. She got a job. She made friends. She met Logan. She'd had guys in her life before, but Logan was different. Sure, he was an underground cyber-journalist crusading for the meek and that wasn't someone you just met every day. But that really wasn't what set him apart. He listened…he cared. He would look at her with those eyes that just compelled her to spill her heart out. She had never really let her guard down with anyone, not even Original Cindy. But Logan just kept hammering away at that armour, finding chinks that left her with these strange feelings boiling inside her, threatening to overtake her. Some nights when her looked at her, she felt like she was in heat. No matter how hard she tried to walk away. So, the truth of the matter was that she did care… probably more than she should. This genetically-enhanced machine had developed a heart and now it was breaking to think that the one person she would ever let see it believed it didn't exist.
Dipping her hands into the wash basin, she splashed some cold water on her face, snapping her out of her musings and washing away some of the fatigue. As the fog in her head cleared, she steeled herself for the coming mission, fighting to silence the nagging doubts in the back of her mind.
After returning to her bedroom and slipping into her traditional black catsuit, she found herself at the top of the stairs. She couldn't seem to take that first step, afraid of what she might find in Logan's eyes when she faced him again. Taking a deep breath, she forced her legs to move. It was going to be a long night.
***
Logan barely registered his cousin's voice as she pointed out for the third time that evening, the route that she and Max would be taking out of the valley. The daylight was waning early. Incoming clouds were swallowing the sun and the breeze picked up ever so slightly, rustling the leaves outside more insistently.
The living room was dim and Logan's mind drifted. The mournful strains of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata wafted through the room from the CD player in the corner near the fireplace, adding to his melancholy. His heart felt heavy, his mind clouded with the image of the hurt in Max's eyes. He felt like he had after the last time she was walked out his door in anger. All he wanted to do was run after her, but that was the problem wasn't it? He couldn't run, not after her, not with her. All he wanted to be was normal, to be complete.
'You've never not been that to me.' The words teased at his reluctant mind. They were Max's words, spoken as he wallowed in his self-pity, knowing he was losing his ability to walk. Now they resonated in his head. Did she really mean it?
The soft creak of a floorboard behind him caught Logan's attention. Maggie glanced up from the map and smiled over his shoulder. Spinning in his chair, he was met with what, despite having seen it over and over again, left him breathless. Max stood in the soft glow of the hearth, sheathed in her black catsuit. The warm light radiated around her, making her look like a dark avenging angel, ready for battle. He dragged his wandering eyes back up to her face. She held his gaze, her face a study in control, though her chestnut-coloured eyes were bright with emotion.
Maggie's voice penetrated the heavy silence, sounding distant to Logan's ears. "I'll go get the horses and meet you both around front."
"O.K." Logan answered absently, barely noticing the click of the back door closing. His gaze never wavered from the dark figure in front of him. Time seemed to stop as Logan fought for something to say. She looked like a statue and for a moment, he thought he was dreaming. Then she spoke.
"Well, let's get this bitch over with." Her bravado was back, but he was sure he noticed a slight waver in her voice, which she quickly squelched.
Wanting desperately to regain some of the easiness between them, Logan ventured. "Thanks for doing this Max." His eyes implored her to hear all the words he didn't say. "Maggie really appreciates this."
Momentarily taken aback by his tone, Max quickly recovered. "Yeah, well, some of us don't just abandon the people who need us."
Logan flinched inwardly. He deserved that, but as her words sank in, he felt a flare of hope. 'Is she saying that she needs me?' Looking up into her chestnut eyes, he fought to see through the jumble of emotions raging there. As he lost himself in her gaze, the distant jingle of horse tack filtered in through the open window, announcing Maggie's return from the stable and ending the moment.
Logan sighed. "Well, I guess you'd better get going."
He thought he caught a flicker of disappointment flash across her face before she turned on her heel and led them through to the kitchen and out onto the back porch.
Maggie was waiting for them, two sets of reins wrapped around her wrist, attached on the other end to two horses, calmly ignoring Otus hot on their heels, panting eagerly, tail wagging, ears alert. The smaller of the two horses regarded the couple on the porch with some curiosity. She was short and stocky, but still attractive to behold, her coat a glossy blue-black. Her mane and tail were a thick and shaggy slate grey and her ample forelock nearly covered her dark inquisitive eyes. The larger horse was more aloof, a sleek dun-coloured mare with a nearly white mane and tail. Dark brown bands encircled her solid legs and a dark line parted her mane and ran down the middle of her back; almost as if it were painted. She held her head high, ears scanning in all directions.
Max regarded the animals with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Now they were out of their stalls, they looked much larger.
Noticing her hesitation, Maggie smiled reassuringly. "Max, meet Freja and Sigrid, our transports for this evening."
Max approached slowly and Logan followed, easing himself down the ramp. He couldn't hide his developing smile at Max's childlike wonder at seeing such impressive animals. She stopped face to face with Sigrid, her gaze drawn by the horse's soft dark eyes. Maggie handing her a set of reins snapped her back to the present.
"Sigrid's yours tonight." Max smiled quietly in response. "She's a 4 year old Icelandic Pony. She's a nice horse for first time riders, calm, reliable and very sure-footed."
Max still looked unsure as she fingered the reins in her left hand. Sigrid snorted softly and Maggie continued. "Go ahead and introduce yourself Max. Sigrid loves people. Give her a good ear scratch and she's yours for life." As if in response, the horse nudged her soft wet nose against Max's cheek, and she couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling. Logan heart warmed at the rare sound.
Ruffling the mare's forelock, Max answered, "Hello yourself Sigrid."
In one fluid movement, Maggie pulled herself into Freja's saddle. Freja pawed the ground impatiently, anxious to get going. Turning to Max Maggie instructed, "O.K., Max, to get up, hold the reins in your left hand and place it on the horn of the saddle, that knob in the front there…"
Max did as she was told.
"That's it, now place your right hand at the edge of the seat and your left foot in the stirrup. Once you're ready, push off with your right foot and swing it over to the other side and sit down.
After a moment's consideration, Max swung herself into the saddle with her usual catlike grace. Logan smiled proudly. Max's face registered a bit of surprise as Sigrid shifted beneath her, but it was quickly replaced with a broad smile.
Momentarily forgetting their past differences Max turned to Logan. "It's like riding my baby!"
Logan smiled back. "Only this one has a mind of her own."
"Ah, see Logan, you don't know my baby."
Chuckling at his cousin's obvious confusion, Logan explained, "Max is talking about her motorcycle."
Max pouted playfully, "She's not just a motorcycle Logan; she's an extension of my soul."
"As you keep reminding me." Logan countered.
Maggie was reluctant to break up their fun as she was so happy to see the couple speaking to each other again, but daylight was waning. Clearing her throat, she spoke. "I stowed all the equipment in the saddlebags. We'd better get going while we still have some light to go by."
The couple nodded solemnly, suddenly serious. Logan wheeled closer to Max and tentatively touched her leg. Looking down at him, she could see his bright blue eyes clouded with unreadable emotions.
"Be careful." He implored, holding her gaze, his voice just above a whisper.
Her flippant retort caught in her throat as he moved to press his entire hand against her leg and the warmth seeped into her. His eyes wouldn't let her go. She managed a weak smile and nodded.
Logan tore himself away from Max's eyes and turned to Maggie. "You too."
"Logan, you know I'm always careful. Besides I know these hills like the back of my hand." Maggie was never at a loss for a snappy retort for her cousin.
"That's not what I'm worried about," he answered, his expression grim.
"I've got her back Logan." Max answered.
Maggie smiled, and nudged Freja forward. "Alright Max, let's go. Give Sigrid a little nudge with your heels and I'll teach you the rest on the way."
Max complied and felt a small sense of loss, as Logan's contact with her leg was broken. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as Logan as he waived them off before they disappeared into the shadowy forest.
***
Logan settled in again in front of his laptop. Instead of launching into his work immediately, he gazed past the screen at the sunset across the lake. The sun itself wasn't visible but it set the clouds in front of it aflame with swaths of orange and fuchsia. The girls had been gone for nearly an hour and would be about a third of their way to their destination.
Rubbing his weary eyes under his glasses, he turned his attention away from nature's spectacle back to his makeshift desk. He hated having to wait behind while the two most important women in his life put themselves in danger for his crusade. Releasing a deep breath, he ran his forefinger along the map of the valley Maggie had left for him, tracing their progress along the trail she had highlighted.
Suddenly, a floorboard creaked in the other room and Logan froze, every muscle in his body on alert. He strained his ears, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps on the old hardwood floors. Nothing. Just the rustle of leaves outside the window. Chiding himself for being so high strung, he returned to his work.
Then he heard it again, a faint creak. He was sure this time.
"Hello?" He called out, angry at the break in his voice.
Only a cricket answered. A sudden and insistent rapping at the window stopped him cold, his heart beating loudly in his chest. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Logan breathed a sigh of relief. It was only the branches of the old spruce out front dancing in the increasing wind.
His heart rate slowly returning to normal, Logan decided to make a quick check of the ground floor. As much as he hated to admit it, thoughts of Simon's attack had him truly rattled, especially trapped in his chair without his genetically-engineered guardian angel. Quietly, reluctant to break the silence, he wheeled himself toward the kitchen. As Logan rounded the corner, he never saw it coming. A vicious blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling forward onto the ground. He flung his arms out to catch himself and gritted his teeth against the impact. Rolling over onto his back, his grasped the sides of his head, fighting to focus against the blinding pain and the stars spinning in front of his eyes. His glasses had skidded across the floor as he feel forward and he felt blindly along the floor for them. As the world stopped spinning, Logan strained to focus his unaided vision. He was met with the dark shadow of a figure above him. Before he could speak, another blow sent him spinning into blackness.
***