Huge thanks for the reviews – they were greatly appreciated.

My thanks to Alaidh for her wonderful work in betaing this chapter with her usual flair and such impressive speed. I'm very grateful.

California Blue, this chapter is the result of a comment you made in your final review for Ties that Bind. I hope you enjoy this!

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CHAPTER 5

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Logan closed his laptop with a snap. His left hand, which had been holding the fishing line, was beginning to feel the strain. Trying to free up his hands, he laid the rod across his legs, keeping a wary eye on it in case it jerked suddenly.

He then reached for his bag by the side of his chair and stowed his laptop, grabbing his water bottle before he sat up again.

He yawned suddenly. The sun was warm and the time spent staring at his computer screen had left him feeling lethargic and sleepy. The thought of stretching out on the grass was a particularly tempting one but, on second thought, he didn't think he could be bothered to go to so much effort.

Instead, he opened his water bottle and took a swig. The tepid liquid wasn't especially refreshing but, once he'd taken the first gulp, he followed with some more as he suddenly realised how thirsty and hot he was.

He'd started off in the shade, but as the afternoon had worn on he'd ended up in full sunlight and he was surprised to find both how warm the sun was and how warm he now felt. Never one to pay a great deal of attention to his body's needs, especially when ensconced in front of a computer, he now realised he probably should have discarded his sweater some time ago.

With a sigh he put a hand to his leg. The material of his cargo pants was warm as if they'd not long ago been ironed.

Still not quite used to his body's now erratic way of handling temperature extremes, Logan set about making himself cooler. First to go was his sweater. He tossed it down beside the bag with his laptop, cell phone and keys and immediately felt cooler in his navy T-shirt.

Shoes and socks went next. He even remembered to check that the footrest wasn't hot before putting his feet back in place. They looked ridiculously white in the sun.

For a minute he stared at them with something bordering on resentment.

"It's just not fair!" Glasses awry, cheeks red, hair wild – youth at its most indignant.

"Well, if you've learned anything out of this, you've learned a good lesson. You're quite right - life isn't fair." His mother's words – coolly amused yet tinged with sadness that the glory of youth didn't necessarily protect you from the harsh realities of life. Did she know she was dying even then?

Wincing a little at the memory, Logan put his hand to the arm of his glasses and adjusted them with a purposeful expression – dismissing the memories he hadn't asked to recall in an effort to hold on to what had lately been a sometimes precarious equilibrium.

He pushed himself forward another few feet so that he could catch the shade at the edge of the bank. Too bad if the fish notice me, he thought wryly as he locked his brakes and picked up his rod again. From his new position he could stare straight down to the reeds and gently moving water. He had to admit that in his hot state it looked particularly tempting.

The sun glinted fiercely off the water, and at this new angle he had to squint to be able to look out at the river. He yawned once, then yawned again, seeing silvery, blinding spots before his eyes as they momentarily closed.

Trying to wake himself up a little, he dropped the rod onto his lap so that he could change his position. Uncannily, he'd only just put his hands to his wheels and raised himself up a little when his rod jerked suddenly with quite some force.

"Whoa," he muttered as he quickly grabbed at it and began reeling in his line. However, he'd only reeled it in a little way when he realised the line had gone slack again. Whatever had been there had obviously let go.

I suppose I should reel it in and check if my bait is still there, he thought sleepily. His eyelids were feeling incredibly heavy now – the temptation to give in to the weight and let them close was just too much.

Logan vaguely had enough sense to lean well back, as somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he'd fall from his chair if he fell asleep. Did Bling ever warn me about that…? he drowsily tried to remember as his head fell down onto his chest and the long fingers that held the rod went slack.

He didn't know how long he slept – it seemed as if he'd only just nodded off, when suddenly he was startled awake by the sudden jerk of his fishing rod. Scarcely awake, his first instinct was to clutch at it, hard, as he felt himself dragged forward.

The sudden shock of startlingly cold water enveloping his chest, arms and shoulders as they sank below the surface roused him from his stupor in less than an instant.

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Max indulged herself in a long swim. The water was certainly cold, but her body had been built to adapt to conditions far worse than these, and she found after the heat of the day, the water made her skin tingle refreshingly.

It was rare, she realised, that she had the chance to really relax like this, and even though the upcoming rendezvous with Zack still occupied a lot of her thoughts, she still found the sensation of the swirling water an enjoyable one. She wished suddenly that Logan was enjoying this with her. After all, what was wrong with saving the world and still having a little time for some fun? she wondered as her strong arms sliced through the water with ease.

It had been quite some time since she'd seen Logan. She decided if he hadn't caught any fish by now he was never going to catch any.

With her powerful strokes, it took her only a few minutes to swim against the current upstream to where she'd left him.

A grin of evil intent crossed her mouth as she saw him sitting by the bank, eyes closed, his neck completely relaxed, and his head almost on his chest.

In a few strokes Max made it to where his line disappeared into the depths.

With another grin, she grabbed hold of it and tugged – hard. Logan'll think he's got a tiger by the tail.

Her grin faded as she looked up at Logan to gauge his reaction.

"Oops!"

Shaking herself from her initial horror at the mistake she'd made, she swam forward a few feet to where the rippling circles targeted his drop site so that she'd be there when he surfaced. If he surfaced, she thought with a grimace as she watched the dark shadowy water impatiently. Damn, he can swim, can't he? she began to wonder anxiously.

At last Logan breached the surface, face streaming with water, brown hair plastered to his head.

Max's face blurred in front of him – anxious…full of guilt…amazingly beautiful. Trying to ignore the latter thought and concentrate on the task at hand, he gasped out his first concern. "My glasses…came off."

"I'll find 'em," Max uttered quickly with a cringe. Good one, Max. You couldn't just nearly drown him – you managed to lose his glasses as well.

Max looked about wildly for them, hoping somewhere for a glimpse of silver in the murky depths. What if I can't find them? He might be blind as a bat without them! she grimaced, eyes searching desperately.

"I think I see them," she suddenly cried out, sure she'd caught sight of something silvery floating beneath her, before doing a duck-dive under the surface.

"Hey, I got 'em," she announced triumphantly as her head broke the surface just in front of him.

Logan didn't speak. Instead he stared at her for a long moment as a series of conflicting emotions subtly played over his features. Max knew she should move into damage control – an obsequious apology or a brilliant explanation outlining her complete innocence or perhaps something simple like, My, the fish sure are strong around here, but for some reason all she could think of was how thick and long his eyelashes were, and how much greener his eyes looked…

"Well, looks like… I'm goin' swimming after all."

Max tore her gaze a little reluctantly from the eyes that all of Seattle found so fascinating.

"I found your rod as well," she told him with a hopeful smile, raising her arm a little in the water to show him, as if that would compensate for her first mistake…and her second one.

Logan looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"Boy, the fish… sure tug hard… on the line around these parts," he remarked amicably, his breathing only a little uneven as his arms worked constantly to keep him afloat in the deep water.

"Um…I was a little overenthusiastic…stupid," Max confessed. Her dark eyes lifted to his contritely. "Sorry."

Logan, unable to resist that look even if he'd wanted to, managed something that looked like a shrug. "I was getting hot up there… anyway," he finally admitted to her with a wet, lopsided grin.

Max gave him a relieved smile. See, Max, piece o' cake.

By this time, Logan's arms were beginning to feel the strain. "Ahh…which way are we headed? I'm used t'swimming…in a pool with sides," he hinted.

"Right. That away," she said, pointing quickly downstream with the hand that held his glasses as she effortlessly treaded water without even disturbing her breathing.

Logan nodded and immediately took a breath and put his face down in the water, his long arms lifting cleanly above the water and then down with a clean stroke. Max watched for a moment, impressed with his style – she supposed Bling had been working with him on it or maybe he could always swim well.

Hampered as she was by the fishing rod and Logan's glasses, Max swapped the glasses and rod to the same hand and contented herself with something more like a sidestroke, heading towards the sloping, sandy bank of the river where she'd left her towel.

As soon as the water was waist deep, she hung his glasses over the neck of her singlet then stood up and started reeling in Logan's line. To her dismay it felt a little heavy in the water and she wondered how many branches and leaves she'd picked up as she'd towed the hook through the water.

"Hey," she called to him with sudden excitement as the end of the line leapt up out of the water. "Look at this!"

Logan, who was sitting up and dragging himself backwards along the final few feet of shallow water, stopped and looked across at her. To his amazement, she had a huge fish on the end of the line.

Max walked across to him, a wide grin spread across her face. "Well, at least we won't go hungry," she announced proudly as she dangled the still twisting fish in front of him.

Logan considered it closely.

"Without my glasses it's kinda hard to tell if that one's as big as the ones I caught," he said innocently.

A gleam of humour shone in Max's eyes. "You'd better put them on and let me know then," she said at once, passing them to him.

Balancing on one arm, Logan took them and slipped them on. "Nope. Definitely smaller than my four."

"Wow…four! I'm impressed!" Max told him as her eyes strayed to the outline of well-defined muscles under his wet T-shirt. "…about the fish," she added by way of sudden explanation, as she realised her comment and accompanying expression could be construed more as a come-on rather than any admiration of his fishing capabilities.

She thought for the merest instant she saw a look of confusion or surprise in Logan's eyes, but in the next instant it was gone and he was grinning at her fish.

"Well, maybe it is the same size as mine," he admitted, to be fair, as he tried not to look at the way the wet singlet top hugged her body and the way the beads of water lay like tiny jewels in the sunlight against her honey-coloured skin.

The grin abruptly disappeared from his face as he frowned and worriedly turned his head in the direction he knew his wheelchair to be. "I've left my laptop and cell phone and stuff up there," he told Max.

Max hurriedly put the rod down next to him. "I'll go get them," she said at once, not at all keen on the thought of his laptop falling into the wrong hands, even with all the passwords and anti-theft programmes she knew he would have on it.

"Look after junior here," she murmured with a nod towards the fish, before heading back upstream along the bank to where Logan had so precipitately abandoned his chair.

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Logan turned his head sideways for a moment to watch her go, then turned and looked back out across the river as he shifted his hands a little to change his position. The sun still felt wonderfully warm upon his face, but the slight breeze blew coolly against his wet clothes.

He had to admit, as he idly watched the water lapping at the heels of his feet, that even though he hadn't planned it, the swim had turned out to be good idea. A wide grin flashed across his face as he remembered Max's look of guilt as he'd come up for air. Serves her right.

A few minutes passed and Max hadn't returned. Logan was finding his position increasingly uncomfortable as he half sat with his arms spread out behind him, taking his weight.

A few minutes later, Max still hadn't returned. He gave up and let himself lie down fully on his back. His aching arms, that had been given a far more thorough workout this day than Bling had ever concocted, were thankful for the reprieve.

Logan closed his eyes against the sun and the air suddenly seemed to swell with distorted sound – the constant buzz of insects in the air, the wind playing with the leaves, birds warbling competitively with each other…

At last a shadow played across Logan's face.

"You run into trouble?" Logan asked her as he lazily opened one eye only to hastily put his hands behind him and prop himself up once more.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," a stranger in a sheriff's uniform replied.

"No. We haven't run into any trouble," Logan told him quickly, assuming a look of innocent surprise as his eyes took in the dirty, scuffed boots that stood by his left hand, the badly pressed brown trousers, khaki shirt covering a slightly rotund figure and what appeared to Logan from his difficult angle, a slightly balding head.

"Great…great," the other man responded genially as he glanced down at Logan in a friendly, if somewhat distracted manner. He began walking absently around Logan, his eyes searching the area – the picture of the ever-vigilant lawman.

"Have you had problems here?" Logan asked cautiously, squinting up at him into the late afternoon sunlight as he tried to follow the erratic pacing. At times the sheriff was only a dark blob against the sun.

"Trouble? Nope, we're just a quiet little camping ground. No dramas here. We leave that to the big cities," the sheriff replied with a smile. "Sheriff Bowie," he introduced himself, stopping long enough to stretch out a hand of introduction.

Logan looked blankly at the outstretched hand, unsure of his ability to shake hands and support himself at the same time.

"Hey," a voice called.

The sheriff's hand dropped as both he and Logan looked up to see Max approaching.

No wonder the introduction was forgotten, Logan mused wryly. He doubted the sheriff saw sights like Max everyday. She'd grabbed her towel and had partially dried herself as she walked in the sun, and her damp hair now framed her face in soft waves.

"Wow, a visit from the law! That must make us special," Max drawled, but the smile that played on her lips robbed her words of any possible offence. Logan breathed a sigh of relief to find her in a conciliatory mood. He suspected that she, even more than him, was keen on staying under the radar until her rendezvous with Zack.

Without seeming to do so, Max studied the sheriff and, on a quick analysis, saw nothing to cause her alarm. She noticed the slight narrowing of the large man's eyes as he saw the wheelchair, and the dawning understanding as he realised to whom it belonged. If anything, it seemed to make the man relax even more.

"Well, I try to be hospitable," he grinned. "You two plan on staying here long?" It was a casual question, his manner unthreatening as he looked from one to the other as Max positioned the wheelchair behind Logan and removed his bag and her towel from the seat.

Meeting her eye, Logan said a quiet "thank you," then looked back to the sheriff. "We're only planning on being here a short while," he said easily.

"You know, I didn't even know there was a town around here," Max commented, looking around as if she expected buildings to spring up in front of her as she slung the towel around her neck and hung the bag from her shoulder..

"Well, I'd hardly call it a town," Sheriff Bowie smiled. "There's just me, really, and I double as Park Ranger, as well, at the moment. Government's always tryin' to save money these days," he explained with a wry face. "You two should take care. Murchison Woods isn't the safest place to be right now."

"You have bear problems?" Max queried with innocent surprise, wading into the water as she spoke to wash some of the dirt from her feet.

The sheriff could scarcely take his eyes from her – which was exactly what she wanted.

"Nope. It's just that no place is safe since the Pulse hit and I don't have the manpower to go protecting people."

Max looked around with a slightly cynical expression. "Looks to me like there's not a whole lotta trouble up here that we'd need to be protected from."

"True, true," he smiled unflappably. "Still, it's always best to be on the safe side. I take it you two won't be doing a lot of off-the-trail trekking," he queried with a look at Logan, who'd used Max's distraction to lift himself back into his chair.

Logan looked at him with raised brows as he caught the towel Max tossed at him.

"What I mean is – I take it you won't be doing much hiking? You'll stick to the paths around the campsite?"

Max looked at Logan while the sheriff waited for his answer. Her eyes questioned him, but her face remained impassive.

"You won't get any arguments from me on that. What about you?" Logan asked Max blandly before running the towel vigorously through his hair.

"Not me," Max agreed. "I go where he goes," she told the sheriff.

"Fine. You shouldn't get into too much trouble then. When did you say you were leaving here?"

"We didn't," Max replied, a little dryly this time.

"Maybe tomorrow sometime or the day after," Logan said quickly, keen to not antagonise the man in the hope that he'd go. Further questions could pose a problem and he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his wet clothes as the sun began to sink.

"Fine, fine. Well, we'll have to hope that the weather holds good for you," the sheriff remarked brightly. "I'll let you get back to enjoying the sun," he said to them with a casual glance at the clear blue sky. "Gonna be in for a cold one tonight, I'd say," were his final words before he wandered off with a wave.

"What's his problem?" Max wondered with a curl of her lip as she watched his retreating back.

"Can't a cop show some old-fashioned friendliness without you being suspicious?" Logan remarked mildly as he released his brakes and gave a firm push to get his chair going.

"Cop - old-fashioned friendliness?" Max shook her head decisively as she watched Logan struggle a little to get his chair over the sandy bank. "I don't think so. You think he knows anything about the revved up plants?"

"I guess it makes sense to pay off the local law if you want your crop to grow," Logan replied thoughtfully, grateful to have reached the compacted smooth pebbles.

"Well, we've only gotta stay outta trouble another coupla hours. We cook our fish, tell spooky stories around the campfire, then head to bed like good little campers. What could be easier?" she grinned at him.

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"You know, I vaguely remember something about freshly caught fish tasting good, but I don't think I remembered it being as good as this!" Max smacked her lips appreciatively. "Do you hold with the 'it's bad manners to lick your plate theory'?"

"Only if I actually catch you in the act," Logan grinned. "What I don't know won't hurt me."

Max stuck out her bottom lip as she pensively considered the generous offer. "You're good -caught me in the act the first time we met. I'd better not risk it."

She looked up to find Logan looking at her or rather 'through' her, his green eyes glittering in the gloom of twilight. She knew where he was. She'd never forgotten that half-smile of relief on his face – nor the sparks that ignited with such brilliance between them. They could have generated enough power to light all of Seattle that night. She'd long since stopped trying to fathom just what it was that had made her feel so inexplicably drawn to him in that one moment – far safer to leave those questions alone.

Suddenly aware of a flicker of unease on Max's face, Logan purposefully swung his back towards her. "Hardly, Max," he commented over his shoulder as he lifted his plate off his lap and placed it on the table to be washed.

Max's dark eyes softened suddenly. Logan Cale, who are you kidding? You've got more moves than any other man I know. Aloud she said a little more temperately, "Seems to me you've got plenty of moves."

"Chess moves, maybe," he grinned, turning back to look at her.

Max raised one sultry eyebrow. "You should show me some time."

Logan laughed outright. "What, so that you can humiliate me?"

"Humiliation is good for the soul," quipped Max.

"I'll try and remember that," Logan responded dryly.

Max shrugged and stood up. "Tonight, I'm building us a fire."

"I'd better start thinking up some scary stories then while I wash up," said Logan, reaching for the container of water so he could start the dishes.

"You cooked," Max protested at once.

"You're gonna build a fire," Logan countered, "and you already filled the container from the river for the washing up."

"I wanna make sure I'm doing my fair share," she appealed to him.

Logan looked up at her in surprise. She sounded so serious. What he didn't realise was that Max was genuinely appreciative of all his efforts. Now that they were up here and she saw how much harder it was for him to enjoy the great outdoors post-Pulse style than it was for her, she wanted to ensure that he didn't regret his impulsive offer.

"Just make me a nice big fire and I'll wash up. You heard what the sheriff said - it's gonna be even colder up here than it was last night," he told her, looking up at the cloudless dark sky above them that was already beginning to glitter with the first of the evening's stars. "Besides, I want some peace and quiet so that I can think up some genetically enhanced, killer plant stories to scare you with."

Max enjoyed the teasing note to his voice, but she squirmed inwardly at his topic. "Maybe something not quite so close to home, huh? What about a good old-fashioned axe-murderer?"

This time it was Logan's turn to squirm. "I'll think of something," he told her lightly.

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True to her word, Max built a huge fire that gave out sensational heat, its flames spiraling skyward like writhing serpents.

"It's all in the placement of the kindling and the structure of the logs," she told an impressed Logan as she sat on a thickly folded blanket in front of the blazing pyramid, her arms clasped about her drawn up legs.

Logan had changed into a pair of jeans and put his sweater back on after his unexpected swim. His wet pants and T-shirt now hung over a line that Max had rigged between two trees.

He sat in his chair, a little back from her, reluctant to get his legs too close but a little envious of her proximity to the blazing warmth.

"Why don'tcha join me down here?" she asked out of the blue. He found it disconcerting how she could almost read his thoughts at times.

Logan hesitated, undeniably tempted.

Max considered the best way to encourage him. "Hard to enjoy it when you're all the way over there, and I could use a backrest," she added over her shoulder as she swung her legs around so that her back faced him and she was side on to the fire.

When she still heard no movement, she said, "C'mon Logan," and moved back a few inches from the heat, slipping off the blanket and placing it at her back for him to sit on instead. She decided that this was as far as she'd push him.

With a small smile she heard the creak of his chair as he slid out of it, then she was bracing herself slightly as she felt the warmth and weight of his back against hers.

"Hey, relax," she told him with a tiny nudge, feeling sure he was still taking the majority of his weight with his arms.

"Max…" he began.

"Transgenic toughness, remember?"

She heard him grunt… laugh… something… and then she braced herself and leaned into him as this time she felt his full weight against her.

"Comfy?" she asked.

"Yep. You?"

"Fine."

They sat in silence for a while, their heads turned towards the fire, staring at the mesmerising flames. Every once in a while Max poked at it, causing a shower of sparks to erupt into the darkness. It reminded Max of the first blasts from a volcano - the prelude to disaster. It was an analogy that made her feel uncomfortable. We're here simply to meet with Zack, she told herself firmly, no dramas…no Eyes Only investigations…no trouble…right.

"You think Zack'll show this time?" Logan asked at length, pulling off his shoes as he spoke so that his feet could access the superb heat of the fire more readily. He knew they'd still be frozen blocks of ice after his swim in such cold water, even though he'd mothered them with two pairs of woolly socks.

"Something must have happened or he woulda shown this morning."

The underlying note of admiration in her voice was unmistakable to Logan. Was this what she admired…wanted in a man – someone totally sure of himself at all times? Someone who always got the job done no matter what it took?

Well, he didn't save Brin.

Logan felt a twinge of guilt for being pleased with the other man's failure. One thing he was sure of – Zack didn't want Max in Seattle. The thought made him wonder just how much of a hold Zack had over her, anyway. Could he just sweep back into her life and stare at her with those cold, imperative blue eyes and command her to do whatever he wanted? He didn't think so - who can make Max do anything? But he had to admit that the X5's presence made him undeniably uneasy.

Picking up a long stick that was close by, he started to jab at the fire as he tried to dismiss the decidedly uncharitable thoughts that needled at him and the growing sense of disquiet he felt about the dawn rendezvous. It troubled him- so much troubled him lately, he thought dully. Before he'd met Max his thoughts had been controlled and orderly, everything in its correct compartment…now he felt far too often as though sometimes his thoughts controlled him.

Since he'd met Max, everything had seemed so complicated…or is it that meeting her coincided with other complications?

Was it pre Max when he'd had order, or pre life in the chair? Was there even a difference anyway? They both seemed inexplicably tied to each other and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Why couldn't he separate them in his mind? Sometimes he felt it – just for a moment, an unexpected dispensation, an almost euphoric sense of release, that he was with her and he was just Logan, ordinary person. But it was always an unsatisfactorily fleeting illusion – and all the more galling to be dumped back into reality. Safer to stay in reality – no matter how unpleasant it could seem

"Hey! You trying to destroy my masterpiece?" Max rebuked him as a shower of sparks rose into the air in protestation against the dislodgement of one of the carefully placed logs.

"Not thinking," he muttered, tossing the stick down.

"Hope you've got your story ready," she warned lightly, but even as she said the words her thoughts had drifted to images of children in a grey dormitory in grey nightwear trying to bring some colour to their monotonous lives other than olive drab and blood red, by telling stories of blue ladies and anything else their starved imaginations could think of.

"Just how much horror do you want in this story?" Logan asked, not really feeling particularly inspired.

He felt her shoulders move as she shrugged. "I dunno. Never done this before."

Something stabbed hard at Logan as he heard that faintly wistful note. Fate had lavishly served him family, wealth, opportunities – what had Max ever done to receive so little? How was it that she'd never enjoyed something as basic as a night of silliness around a campfire?

"Okay. You want blood curdling, spine tingling…maybe gruesome and gory?" he asked determinedly. The least I can do, he decided for her sake, is put some effort into the evening.

"Um…Logan? You wanna take a rain check on that?"

Logan frowned and half-turned his head in her direction.

"Something's in the wind. You need to sit up."

Immediately putting his hands down either side to take his weight, Logan felt the same sensation of tingling nerve-ends as he had the night before when Max had stared into the night. Within seconds she was on her feet and stretching with the lissome movements of a cat.

"I don't suppose this is your idea of fireside humour?" he suggested quietly as he half turned to watch her place his chair behind him.

She laughed as if he had said something genuinely funny – an exaggerated performance to anyone who knew her - then casually let her eyes look past the fire and roam the darkness with studied indifference.

"You wish," she smiled, but the look in her eyes when she finally directed them at him reflected a dark concern.

"I need to use the little girl's room," she announced slightly louder as she glanced around, as if deciding what tree to use. Logan barely had time to take this all in when she suddenly muttered, "Damn, gotta go," under her breath and in a swift movement disappeared into the night.

Resisting the temptation to follow her movements with his eyes, Logan grabbed his shoes and put them back on, then reached around to grab his wheelchair. That was when he encountered a slight problem - his chair was no longer there.

"I want my gun and I want the laptop. Now!"

The previously, almost laid-back deep voice of the man called Chad was almost unrecognizable in the tone that now bordered on high-pitched hysteria. Logan tried to ignore for the moment the size of the knife he held in his hand, but his eyes were caught by the tongues of orange and red and yellow that flashed a distorted reflection on the wide blade.

Logan shuffled on his hands, eyes narrowed, wondering how best to stall.

In the flickering light of the fire Chad's eyes looked wild and unfocused and his skin gleamed unhealthily with a thin veneer of sweat. To say that he was jumpy would be an understatement – he stalked distractedly back and forth in front of Logan with short, jerky steps, swapping the knife between his hands as if he was some ambidextrous knife thrower in a cheap sideshow.

"You hear me?" yelped Chad, giving Logan's leg a hard kick with the toe of his boot, which only made Logan raise his eyebrow's at the other's ignorance.

"Hey! Hey! You stoopid or something? Where's the stuff?"

"Like I told you before – I'm not a cop," Logan told him as calmly as possible. It's what you do, right, when you're faced by a madman…talk calmly, no unexpected movements.

"I want my frickin' stuff!" shrieked the denim-clad man, bending over to scream into Logan's face.

Okay – let's forget the calming talk, Logan decided quickly as he looked into the face now threateningly close to his. It was transfused with uncontrollable fury. Add a little frothing and he'd be a mad-dog.

Logan had not the slightest doubt that the man was completely irrational - a phobic time bomb waiting for the wrong word to set him off. His track record in that regard with Chad hadn't exactly been impressive so far, he admitted wryly.

This time Chad didn't waste time with his foot but, in a lightning quick movement, squatted behind Logan, knocking one of his arms out of the way to none-to-gently press the knife to Logan's throat, his knee jabbing hard into Logan's back.

"Move and I'll slice ya," he ground out. Logan found the new note of deep-throated calmness even more unnerving than the previous squeals. He knew he had to think fast.

"It's in the car. In the back," he told the other quickly, careful not to move against the razor-sharp edge that was starting to dig into his neck.

Logan scarcely felt the sudden easing of pressure against his neck as the knife was removed – every thought was focused on a plan of action and he knew he had only seconds to do something.

As soon as Chad released him and stood to his feet and took his first step past the fire towards the car, Logan twisted and lunged.

Chad had only taken one step when he found himself falling forward as strong hands gripped at his feet, yanking him until he dived towards the pine needles and hard-packed earth.

Logan held on grimly as he felt the other man crash to the ground, hoping wildly to be able to drag himself quickly enough to grab at Chad's knife hand.

The other man seemed stunned for the moment, and Logan used the few precious moments to pull himself forward, but frustratingly it just wasn't enough, and his head was only even with the other man's waist when he saw him roll over and twist his head to look down at Logan. Not close enough to get in a punch to the prone man's head, Logan grabbed at his closest arm, searching for the knife. There was none to be seen in that hand and now Logan could sense Chad bringing his right arm up and around in a wide arc. Logan desperately tried to drag himself a little further on one arm but it was a futile gesture and now Chad's arm had reached the top of its arc and was descending with rapid force. Out of the corner of his eye, Logan caught an evil gleam of silver then he was grabbing at Chad's arm with both hands as his body sagged heavily and he virtually fell on top of the other man, pinning him to the ground.

Logan's nose wrinkled unconsciously as it encountered the putrid smell of unwashed hair and reeking, bad breath, but his focus stayed wholly on wrenching the knife from the other man, who clutched it with a vice-like grip.

He held fast to Chad's right wrist, ignoring the largely ineffectual left-handed blows that mainly fell on his chest and arms, slowly forcing the hand that held the knife towards the ground.

Logan's mind slowly registered that something had changed as colours unexpectedly merged and shadows deepened. Distracted for a moment, Logan paused as his world blurred into an impressionist painting as his glasses slid off the end of his nose. In that second, Chad tried to surge upwards, but Logan, knowing his chances of success were fast dwindling as his already weary arms began to tire, feinted then pressed down even harder, forcing the other man's hand onto the cold earth with a thud that made him grunt but not release his hold on the knife. Logan repeated the movement again and again and again, grunting out each breath with every blow until finally, Chad's hand, bruised and numb, opened and the knife fell from useless fingers.

In a flash, Logan swooped on it and tossed it as far as he could into the darkness, then grimaced as the drug-crazed man recovered with surprising strength and speed and rolled them both over towards the fire, once, then twice, then three times, his hands now at Logan's throat.

Max, this would be an awful good time to show up.

Logan reached up instinctively to the hands at his throat, suddenly aware of the heat of the fire unbearably hot against the side of his face as a bead of salty perspiration stung at his eye. Unexpectedly, Chad changed his tactics and released his hold on Logan's throat to stun him with a hard, well-aimed blow that connected somewhere near his temple. Logan saw a mouth drawn back into a mirthless smile of triumph in the blurred face above his own, then the night sky was falling, blanketing him in a hot, sultry, velvety darkness.

Heat. Smile. A sense of movement.

Logan struggled back to full consciousness with sudden panic.

Oh, God. The fire...my legs.

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To be continued.