Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Dark Angel, just the thoughts in my head. But Maggie and the rest of the family as I have named them are mine and Gideon belongs to Chris.
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.
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: I'm so very sorry this chapter has taken so long, especially with the cliffhanger I left you with last time. Between my trusty beta's and myself, we are very busy people and this had to take a back seat to some of life's challenges. I really am flattered that there are people out there reading this. I'm sorry to say this, but the length of time between chapters could get worse. Although I'm well into chapter 5, I'm about to move across country to a completely new life that's going to require most of my attention. But I promise you I will finish this. I like the way this story is turning out too much to let it drop. So hang in there! Drop me a line anytime. I love feedback of all kinds, especially constructive.
*Thanks to Chris and Joy B. for taking time out of their busy schedules to give me their opinions on this. It really means a lot to me. Also thanks Chris for letting me borrow Gideon. Now you have to write his story for me.
*Thanks also to Ana, Lindsey Danae and Jude for your support, friendship and prodding in my writing and the rest of my life.
***
The tops of the spruce trees swayed in the mounting wind as the clouds darkened, marching across the sky from the northwest. In the band of sky at the horizon that had not yet been engulfed in grey, the sun made its last dazzling appearance of the day, bathing the valley in its crimson glow.
They were about a third of the way out of the valley, following the path to the north end of the lake, along the ridge. The towering trees creaked every now and then as the wind nudged at their trunks. Among the rustling leaves, Swainson's Thrushes and robins added their fluid warbles to the evening chorus of wood frogs. A loon on the lake sent up a low wail that seeped into every crevice of the valley.
Max inhaled deeply. The air was crisp, typical of late spring, with a hint of moisture that intensified the smells of the surrounding forest, the pungent conifers, damp moss and leaf litter, mixed with the subtle perfumes of bog violets and wild strawberry blossoms. As the breeze caressed her cheek, Max decided she was as close to heaven as she was going to get.
As if hearing her thoughts, Maggie spoke. "Not a bad night, huh?"
Max snapped out of her moment of introspection. Turning to Maggie, she smiled. "Beautiful."
The older woman returned her smile, before her face darkened somewhat. Tilting her head skyward, she continued, "I don't think it's going to last though. Those clouds mean business."
Max was distracted by the jingle of a collar as Otus bounded ahead of the horses, tail wagging, sniffing after a poor besieged moth.
"Otus come." Maggie commanded and the dog stopped short and dutifully returned to keep pace with Freja and Sigrid.
"Are you sure Otus is going to be up for this?" Max asked carefully as she tried to make her concerns about bringing the dog known as gently as possible. She didn't like unpredictable variables and Otus was definitely one.
Maggie's smile returned. "Don't worry Max. He's an excellent watchdog. He'll hear anything coming long before we do."
Max nodded and caught herself before she responded 'I could do just as good a job.' She was still toying with the notion of telling Maggie the truth about her past, but she didn't want to start the conversation with 'I can hear as well as your dog can.'
Searching for a subject, Max blurted out, "Logan never told me about you," and immediately regretted opening her mouth as a brief flicker of melancholy marred Maggie's features only to vanish as quickly as it had come.
Logan's cousin let out a soft chuckle. "I'm not surprised."
"Maggie, I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"
"No Max, it's okay." Maggie turned in the saddle to face the younger woman who looked like she wished the earth would swallow her where she sat. Grinning, she continued in an attempt to put Max out of her misery. "It really is okay. I really didn't expect him to tell you about me. Logan's an expert at skirting the issue of his personal life. He'll get you to tell him your entire life story down to the colour pyjamas you wore when you were six, but ask him about his past and he'll clam up before you can blink."
Max stared back, speechless, realization dawning across her features. "You know, I'm not sure I know much of anything about Logan's family beyond those I met at the wedding." A flash of anger ignited her eyes for a brief moment. "All this time and he's never told me anything…" she mused more to herself than anyone.
Maggie laughed. "He slipped under your radar too huh? Trust me, we're related. I know his tactics all too well."
Max didn't answer as she realised just how very little she knew about the man she just couldn't walk away from. He knew everything about her. 'Well almost everything' and she hadn't even known his parents' names until yesterday.
Maggie continued, lost momentarily in her own thoughts. "Considering all he's been through, I don't blame him for not wanting to talk about it, but he's got to let some of this out, or it's going to kill him…God, it already almost did." Earlier, Maggie had refused to let Logan see just how much the knowledge of his attempted suicide had affected her. But now, she couldn't keep the fear from creeping in, casting a shadow over her heart and the only way she knew to deal with it was talking. So she rambled, totally unaware of her company.
"I mean… does he have any idea what he would've done… to me? Oh God, if I had lost him…"
Max's heart clenched painfully in her chest as she listened to Maggie put a voice to all of her fears from the last week, but it was her next words, barely a whisper, that stopped Max cold.
"Like father, like son."
Unable to control her curiosity, Max spoke up. "Maggie, what are you talking about?"
Misunderstanding the question, Maggie snapped back into reality. "Oh Max, I'm sorry. I overheard your argument. I guess I'm just a little shaken by all of this. I can't believe Logan was so close to…" Her eyes widened as a horrible though hit her. "You would've been the one who found him? Wouldn't you?"
Max swallowed painfully at the memory of what had been racing through her mind as she took the stairs to Logan's penthouse at lightening speed, and nodded mutely.
Maggie sighed wearily and mused, "What the hell was he thinking?"
Max couldn't answer. Her mind and heart whirled with emotions. She was overwhelmed with this sudden desire to know as much about Logan as she could. She desperately wanted to understand him. She felt lost watching his world unravelling around him when she didn't know how to help. Hell, she didn't really know where to start.
Again, as if she could read her thoughts, Maggie ventured. "He's never told you about his father." It was more of a statement than a question.
Max shook her head in response, hoping she would continue.
"You know, this is not my story to tell, but considering what he's put you through in the last little while, you deserve to know where he comes from." Maggie smiled ruefully. "And I think my cousin needs a bit of a push in the right direction."
Max's heart sped up ever so slightly in anticipation as Maggie took a deep breath, trying to decide where best to start.
"Owen Gregory Cale, Logan's father, was a great man in many senses of the word."
The forest faded around her as Max listened intently to Maggie's story.
"Although he and his brother Jonas, my father, were born to privilege, a long line of old money, Owen refused to sit idly by and enjoy the trappings of wealth. He was very bright and a firm believer in hard work. While still a young man in the late nineteen-seventies and eighties he founded Cale Industries, which quickly became one of the most successful computer hardware companies in North America… heck the world at one point. All the while, there was Uncle Owen at the helm, always thinking, always working on new ideas."
"I guess I know where Logan gets his work ethic from." Max muttered to herself.
Maggie smiled absently in response and continued. "He was an imposing man, tall, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. His shining blue eyes that would blaze at you when he was angry softened easily with a smile and twinkled with a laugh, especially around children. Despite his generally kind and fair nature, very few would ever dream of crossing Mr. Cale as he was as stubborn as he was intimidating."
Max couldn't help but grin as she realized just how well Maggie had just described Logan.
"It was at a company Christmas party that he met Logan's mom. Eleanor Anne Kindred had been hired as the singer that night. The moment she walked out into the spotlight, Owen's entire world faded, save for the dark Irish beauty before him."
"Wait a minute, Logan's mom was a singer?" Max asked incredulously.
Maggie grinned at Max's surprise. "Yep, and a damn good one at that. That's where Logan gets all his musical talent from."
Max started dumbly back at the woman riding next to her. Maggie let out a chuckle. "You've never heard him sing, have you?"
"No… I…I…" Max was desperately trying to come to grips with this new information on her best friend.
"Well, then you haven't lived." Maggie answered with a wry smile. "We'll have to remedy that when we get back."
As the shock wore off, Max grinned back devilishly at the prospect of teasing Logan with this newfound knowledge of his talents. Suddenly, the memory of their fight earlier reared its ugly head, dashing her playful mood. Glancing at Maggie, who was still chuckling softly at her own story, Max felt her heart warm to this interesting woman. She was enjoying the closeness that she felt to Logan's cousin. Maggie made her feel welcome, like one of the family she so desperately wanted to be a part of. She made Max feel like a sister. She only ever had that feeling once with someone outside of Manticore, Original Cindy. 'Too bad I'm pretty sure Maggie and I play for the same team. I'm sure Original would've been interested in kickn't it with her.' Max bit back a laugh as the thought crossed her mind.
Maggie's voice as she continued her story brought Max out of her musings. "Owen never spoke to Eleanor the night of the party, but he was determined to find her again. He did, but their courtship wasn't an easy one. Eleanor refused to believe for a long time that she was anything more to him than a charity case and the Cale family was far from supportive of Owen's new attraction. After a turbulent two years, they got married and moved out into the mountains, hoping for their happily ever after."
Maggie paused for a moment and considered her surroundings. They had left the lake behind and were following the Spirit River Canyon, rising steadily as they travelled north to a narrow point in the surrounding mountains. It was completely dark, but Max could make out her environs. Peering through the tree trunks to her right, she was met with the walls of the canyon sloping steeply on the other side, blanketed in a dark mantle of trees. Below, she could hear the rushing gurgle of the river as it wound along the valley bottom, on its way to the lake. The clouds had completely overtaken the sky, hiding the stars behind their depths. Only the faint glow of the moon faded in and out of view as the clouds skated swiftly overhead. The wind periodically rattled the branches of the surrounding firs. The raucous chorus of wood frogs stopped suddenly as the horses sloshed through a shallow puddle.
Maggie steered Freja to the left and led them along the narrow path as it curved away from the canyon's edge. Settling herself in the saddle, she continued. "Owen and Eleanor did live the fairytale… for a while. They built a beautiful home on the western face of the Cascades and raised the picture-perfect family of three gorgeous children." In answer to the question in Max's eyes, "Logan's the middle child"
Max stared back speechless at the discovery of siblings she never knew Logan had.
With a grin, Maggie answered her silent query. "You'll have to ask Logan for details, but his brother Gideon is a little older and his sister Agnes is actually quite a bit younger."
Max got the feeling that Maggie was holding something back, but she wasn't going to press the issue.
"I'm two years younger than Logan and they started sending me over for visits almost as soon as I could walk." Maggie continued with a faint shake of her head, as if trying to cast off old ghosts. "And for a long time, things were good. The house was always full of us kids, the great smells of Aunt Eleanor's cooking, laughter and music. We would sit around the piano in the parlour, because they had rooms like that in those days, and just sing." The diffuse moonlight lit up her eyes as Maggie smiled wistfully at the memories of her childhood.
Max felt a smile tug at her lips as the images danced around her senses. The perfect American family, like those Norman Rockwell paintings Logan was always trying to save. She could feel herself standing outside the window, looking in as Logan and his brother playfully taunted their sister and Maggie, with their mother at the piano, reigning over the chaos and their father in his big easy chair in the corner, pretending to read the newspaper, but surreptitiously sneaking glances and smiling at the commotion. As Maggie continued to relive her childhood aloud, Max could see it all in her mind: horseback riding in the hills, baking Christmas cookies and decorating the tree, Logan taking piano lessons from his mom, he and Maggie climbing the Silver Maple next to the stables. Despite her best efforts at detachment, Max's heart warmed to the memories. It all seemed too good to be true, safe and inviting.
'Nothing like where I grew up.' Max mused. But, as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she was hurled out of the warmth of Maggie's memories back into the cold grey abyss of Manticore. She was now shoulder to shoulder with her siblings, standing at attention, while Lydecker glowered over them and white-coated doctors hovered in the shadows, like vultures waiting for the next kill.
She was only jarred out of the depths of her nightmares when Sigrid stumbled over an exposed tree root. As she shook her head to clear her thoughts, Max felt Maggie's eyes on her. Turning, she met her gaze in the darkness.
"You O.K.?"
"Yeah," Max mumbled almost inaudibly as she broke the stare. "My mind wandered."
Maggie nodded thoughtfully. Taking a deep breath, and tightening her grip on the reins, she went on. "Unfortunately this fairy tale doesn't have a happy ending."
Max noticed the change in the timbre of Maggie's voice and wondered if it was foreshadowing of the story to come.
"Things started to change as the boys got older and went off to college. Soon Gideon wasn't the bright-eyed little boy, eager to follow in his daddy's footsteps. He had his own ideas and they clashed terribly with those of his father. Whenever the family was together on the holidays, everyone, including Logan tried their best to stay out of the way, but soon the tension spread through the entire house. It all came to a head on Christmas break in Gideon's senior year of college. Father and son fought viciously and Gideon walked out and never came back. Logan witnessed the whole thing and although he was angry at his father for driving away his brother, who he loved very much, he was terribly angry with Gideon for just giving up when things got tough."
Max swallowed with difficulty. She knew full well the pain of losing a sibling. She had lived through it more than once.
"Unfortunately Gideon's leaving did nothing to alleviate matters. Uncle Owen turned to Logan to fill his shoes. Logan had always worked hard to please his father, learning everything his could about computers and taking the odd business course while studying at Yale, but his first love was always writing. He wrote gorgeous poems and songs, a talent his mother always encouraged. But Owen had other ideas. He could feel his chance for a family legacy slipping through his fingers, so in his frustration, he lashed out. He knew that his could goad Logan into just about anything. He belittled Logan, calling writers weak, that they did nothing useful but sit back and spew phoney sentimentality, daring him to get a 'real job'."
The words cut through Max's heart like a knife, gouging a fresh wound. She had no idea how deep Logan's scars ran.
"He taunted Logan, threatened to disown him if he didn't carry on the family business and having already lost his brother, Logan couldn't stand the idea of losing any more. He lived off the affection of his mother and he couldn't dream of being without that. I was away at Cornell at the time and I still have the letters he sent me. He was so confused. He had never known a life outside of the comfort of his family. Even college hadn't been much of a challenge and now he had to choose between losing his family as an expense for following his dream, or throwing it all away for the sake of his father. In the end, Owen won and Eleanor would never completely forgive him for that. She knew her son was a brilliant writer and she resented Owen for making him give it up."
"Then the pulse hit and all hell broke loose. Overnight, Cale Industries plummeted to nearly rock bottom. My father Jonas slipped in like a vulture and though he saved it from the brink, he also started inching it little by little out of Owen's grasp."
Maggie snorted with obvious disgust at her father and Max again marvelled at how people like Jonas and Margo Cale managed to produce a daughter like Maggie. Logan's cousin continued, measuring her words carefully.
"Then the last straw came down. In the months after the pulse, Uncle Owen started showing signs of some sort of problem. His balance was off and his memory was spotty in places. Everyone attributed it to stress, but it only got worse. Aunt Eleanor finally dragged him to a doctor, where he was diagnosed with Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis. The doctors figured he might have had it, undetected for nearly two years. Now, there wasn't much they could do. They tried every treatment in the book, but the disease continued to progress and after just a year, the Great and Powerful Owen Gregory Cale had been reduced to a frail man in a wheelchair who had a great deal of difficulty controlling much of his body. Finally, unable to deal with his current state, Uncle Owen waited till a rare snowy evening, January 21, 2112, when everyone was out of the house and ended his life with about two-dozen sleeping pills"
Max tried unsuccessfully to stifle a gasp as it all hit home. Logan had been ready to give up, just like the rest of the men of the Cale family.
"The maid found him and Aunt Eleanor got the call from the local sheriff. She raced home from a performance she was giving at the senior's residence in town. She never made it. The roads were icy… there was fog… she was probably crying…"
Maggie's voice broke as she trailed off, unable to finish. Tears were flowing freely down Max's cheeks, drying to cools trails in the gathering breeze. Why hadn't Logan told her any of this, after all they'd been through? All the times he had helped her through the pain of her past, he had been carrying around this terrible weight. All that pain, bottled up for all these years. Had he told anyone? Bling? Valerie? Her mind was so full of questions that she barely registered when Maggie started to speak.
"Logan was devastated, to say the least. He had just lost everything that mattered to him. Agnes was living the life of a senator's wife in D.C. and Gideon had dropped off the face of the earth. He felt so lost. I was the closest family he had and it didn't take long for Jonas to take advantage of that, turning Logan into the latest charity case, but really just trying to weasel the last pieces of the company out of his hands."
Having met Jonas, Max couldn't say this surprised her.
"Logan soon decided he wanted nothing to do with his father and quickly sold out, turning to the trust fund to maintain his lifestyle. He soon slipped into a depression. That's when Valerie came along. They met at one of Jonas and Margo's parties and she knew an opportunity when she saw one."
Max snorted derisively. "A habit she apparently hasn't broken."
Maggie shot up an eyebrow in interest. "You've met?"
"Let's just say Logan needed a little eye opening." Max remembered how much she hated to have to hurt Logan with the news that his ex-wife was playing him for money… again.
Maggie sighed resignedly. "All he's ever wanted is to be needed, and for a while Val gave him that. He just didn't realize it was the money she needed, not him."
Max fought to ignore a strange feeling niggling at her heart and she forced herself to take stock of where they were. They had just cleared the crest of the pass and were on their way down, headed west. The forest had changed subtly. The ground was soft and moss dangled from the sloping branches of the firs. She tried to busy her thoughts with the subtleties of the environment, but that strange feeling just wouldn't go away. She was afraid to put a name to it, but her heart filled with sadness and the intensity of it scared her. She found herself feeling protective of Logan, wanting to see his brilliant blue eyes without the underlying pain that she now realized had always haunted them from the moment they had met. She desperately wanted to take that away, to show him that some people can be counted on not to stab you in the back and the feeling was at the same time terrifying and empowering. Not wanting to relive the painful story of the divorce, Max turned to Maggie. "We both know how that marriage ended."
Maggie's grin was hidden in the shadows. "Ah, so he did tell you something. Well, after that ended, his depression became worse than ever. I was so worried, that I came into the city as much as possible to see him and tried my best to drag him out to the station. Then out of the blue, came the epiphany. He was at an incredibly dull party at my parents' house that I had dragged him to for moral support, when he started listening to some of the conversations. The more he listened, the more he realized just how much corruption was really out there. The rich and powerful, are often a little loose-lipped about their conquests, especially when plied with enough alcohol."
Max chuckled from experience.
"Logan suddenly realized just how bad the poorer people had it at the expense of the wealthy few and it stirred an anger in him like I had never seen. He decided to use his position in society to weed some of the worst of them out. It started out as sort of a Robin Hood fantasy, one he's had since childhood, you know, rob from the rich to feed the poor, but it grew. About five years ago, he met Nathan Herrero, the editor of an independent newspaper, the Pacific Free Press. Logan was awed by the man and the power he wielded with his publication, bringing down crooked cops, politicians and other scum with sometimes just one article. Nathan took him under his wing and soon they became great friends. Suddenly he had an outlet for his talent and was possessed with this terrific fire in his soul. You could always see it in his eyes. He was finally doing something useful and good with the privilege he had been born to. With the help of Logan's bankroll, the paper grew, reaching more and more people, but something that inflammatory couldn't last. When Nathan disappeared a little over two years ago, Logan was again crushed, but this time he had an outlet for his anger. He went underground and started publishing anonymously. More and more people tried to reach him with their stories and he developed the Informant Net. Taking all he had learned from his father about computers, he created Eyes Only, the voice of the people, able to reach thousands in their homes but remain untraceable. Well, you know where it's all led. Actually, I was surprised to find out that you knew his secret. He's always been very careful."
Max couldn't help but grin at the memory of her first encounter with the masked crusader. "Well, it was a bit of an accident."
Maggie eyed the younger woman with mock suspicion. "Yes, so Logan has told me… many times."
Max shifted uncomfortably in her saddle under Maggie's gaze, but Logan's cousin let the matter drop for the moment. "Eyes Only gave him everything he'd ever wanted. He was writing and he was needed. I think even Uncle Owen would've been proud, though I doubt Logan would believe it. Then, as you know, came the gunshot wound."
Max cringed involuntarily at the memory of the hover drone video. That image had replayed in her head countless times over the months. She knew Logan didn't blame her for the accident, but she wasn't so sure about herself. It was the main reason she went to find him at the hospital, but the guilt faded and strangely enough, she stayed. Max still didn't know what kept bringing her back. At first, she told herself it was the free food and information about her sibs, but here she was about eight months later, Zack had been found, her quest was no longer her life's purpose, but she still found herself climbing to the peak of Fogle Towers at Logan's beck and call and sometimes when she just wanted some company. She had always prided herself in her ability to remain unattached, but Logan got to her. She would turn herself in to Lydecker before she could walk out of his life and the realization was terrifying.
Maggie brought Freja to a halt, causing Max to pull back on her reins in surprise, bringing Sigrid up beside her. Turning to look the younger woman in the eye, Maggie became serious. "You know Max, the day you came back after the shooting may very well have saved Logan's life."
Max was stunned. She opened and closed her mouth silently, searching for the right words. Before she could find any, Maggie went on. "I mean it. He was dangling pretty close to the edge there after he got out of the hospital and I wasn't sure how to bring him back. The minute you walked in that door, you gave him hope, that things might just work itself out, that not everyone in his life would let him down. You gave him a reason to get up in the morning and a reason to keep fighting, for the people of Seattle and for himself."
Maggie kept going before Max could have a chance to protest. "I'm not making this up Max. Logan's made it obvious in not so many words many times over."
Max finally found her tongue. "Why are you telling me this?" She was having trouble processing everything. Logan really thought of her that way? 'No, we're just friends, partners. We help each other out that's all.' The words sounded hollow to her own ears. She just couldn't believe that anyone could feel that way about her, this mixed up genetic stew, with more problems than she was worth.
It was Maggie's turn to chuckle. "I thought you guys could use a little push."
Dumbfounded at her blatant insinuation, all Max could answer was "We're not like that."
"Good Lord! How many times have I heard that phrase in the last few days? Think about it Max, you could be. Don't wait until it's too late."
Max was too caught up in her own whirling thoughts to notice the hint of sorrow in Maggie's voice. Suddenly wanting out of her own head, she turned back to Maggie. "Shouldn't we get going again? We still have a lot of work to do tonight."
Maggie's grin widened. "Nope. We're here."
***
As the world slowly came back into focus, a blinding pain shot through Logan's skull like a hot knife. Blinking wildly against the suddenly blinding light, he fumbled clumsily for his glasses. He breathed a shuddering sigh of relief as his fingers came in contact with one then the other intact lens. Dragging his glasses to his chest, Logan pushed himself up and leaned awkwardly against the wall. He cursed their uselessness as he straightened his unfeeling legs in front of him and settled himself into a seated position.
As the debilitating pain began to abate, Logan realized the sun had set, meaning he had been out for at least a half an hour. Cold fingers of fear closed over his heart as it became obvious that he wasn't the target, but the means to an end. Scanning the room, he spotted his wheelchair lying on its side about six feet away, tossed aside like a forgotten toy. Swearing under his breath, Logan threw himself to one side and rolled onto his belly, supporting his weight in his upper chest and shoulders. He silently sent up a prayer of thanks to Bling for busting his ass all these months at his physiotherapy as he pulled himself along the cold hardwood floor.
His heart pounding in his ears, Logan reached the chair and righted it, bringing the wheels down on the wooden strips with a dull thud that echoed in the empty house. Pulling himself painfully into a seated position alongside, he dragged the chair behind him and set the brakes. Measuring his breathing into deep, claming breaths, he reached behind him and gripped either side of the seat, wishing absently that he had bought a model with armrests. Groaning with the effort, he hoisted himself into the chair. After settling his legs into the rests, he sat back, drawing air deeply into his lungs, trying desperately to calm the rising wave of panic that threatened to overtake him as his thoughts became increasingly clear and he was certain that he knew where his attacker had gone to. Wiping away the sweat that had beaded on his brow, Logan released the brakes and made his way slowly back to his desk, fearing, but knowing what he would find.
There it was. Sitting out on the edge of his desk like a white flag, the map of Max and Maggie's route through the mountains.
"Damn it!" he cursed to the empty house as he picked up the sheet of paper. Although he had no direct proof, Logan had a gut feeling that he had been attacked by an X-5 and now they had gone after Max and Maggie. He studied the map carefully, tracing the tip of his finger along the highlighted line that marked the winding path through the concentric circles of the contours.
Rising panic threatened to consume him again as he realized he had no way of warning them. Clamping shaky walls around his fear, he reached for the mouse on the desk and activated his computer. The clock in the bottom corner of the screen read 9:13 PM. He'd been out for over an hour. The attacker had a hefty head start. He had to do something.
The branch of the old spruce tree in the front tapped relentlessly against the window, echoing the beating of his heart. Time was ticking away. He couldn't just sit there and wait. He gripped the wheels of his chair with frustration, his knuckles turning white as he wished desperately to be able to just stand up and run after them.
But that wasn't going to happen. Suddenly, his cousin's words floated across his muddled mind. 'You know Logan, there's no reason you can't join us in the charge of the Cale Brigade.' Taking a deep breath and steeling his resolve Logan pocketed the map and steered himself into his bedroom. After rummaging through the drawer of the bedside table, he pulled out his gun. Holding the cool metal in his hand, he fought hard to banish the memory of the last time he had almost used it. Snapping out of his dismal thoughts, he hurriedly loaded the clip, secured the safety and rested the gun on his lap.
Turning on his wheels, Logan raced to the back door and grabbed his leather jacket. Stowing the gun in one pocket and the map in the other, he threw the heavy coat over his shoulders and flung open the door.
The wind was gusting now, rustling the new spring leaves in the inky darkness of the newly fallen night. The air smelled of rain. A flash of lightening lit up the clouds, as they skated across the sky, bathing the yard momentarily in an unearthly glow. As the low rumble of thunder echoed across the valley, Logan blinked against the darkness. His body still screamed with pain, but it would have to wait. Slamming the door behind him, Logan took off over the uneven gravel trail toward the stables.
***