DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters.
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Someone to Watch Over Me
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Long past midnight, in the kitchen:
Logan surreptitiously stole glances over at Max as she frothed their hot chocolate with the little wooden tool she usually found so amusing, an ancient tool with the sole purpose of making hot milk foamy. He leaned toward her, slowly added more steamy milk as Max mixed, and reminded her that he had marshmallows in the pantry. As she turned to go get the sweets, the smile he saw in return broke his heart – she was trying to rally, trying to tuck her pain back behind the wall usually erected around her emotions – and, without knowing what troubled her, Logan felt helpless to know how to help her.
Without asking or waiting to be asked now, Max lifted both mugs from the counter by the stove and brought them to the bar. Logan lifted the tin of cookies into his lap and followed, watching Max slip gracefully onto one of the stools at the bar, placing her own mug in front of her, and setting his at the corner of the counter top. She expected him to park his chair at the corner, as usual. Logan stifled a sigh, glancing over at the empty barstool across from her. The raised work bar stood at a height perfect for the stool in which she sat, but which only reinforced the awkwardness of his being shoulder height to the surface. He couldn't think of many arrangements less conducive to eye contact and conversation...
Well, this was what he and Bling had been practicing for, wasn't it, the many reps of choreographed, not- always- patient drills of 'hopping' over, up and sideways onto the barstool from his chair? Briefly he wondered which of them had the idea first, and decided that it was probably another one of those projects that Bling engineered, making him think that he'd come up with the idea...
He gave it a quick second thought – if he missed and ended up on his ass, he'd be sick with humiliation, and the last thing Max needed right now was to have to wade through his crap. But he looked up to see the soft, quiet air still lingering around Max, as she fished out a couple marshmallows and dropped them in her mug, stirring them absently. Screw the ego, he kicked himself. Max came here for your shoulder. It's not always about you...
He drew a deep breath. He had been managing it pretty consistently for a week or so now, and was about ready to dare it in front of Max anyway. The thought of sharing hot chocolate with Max at the kitchen bar, each of them leaning in to talk, eye to eye, over the counter, was enough to make him want to try. "Here," he handed the cookie tin to her, and pivoted toward the other side of the bar. "Mrs. Moreno does amazing work." Max again smiled without speaking, and put the tin in her lap to open it. And as her eyes were averted, popping open the tin and choosing a couple cookies to lift onto the napkin in front of her, Logan set his brakes, reached over, and shifted up onto the barstool across from Max.
...who blinked in a moment of surprise, but then smiled softly when she saw the look in his eye, one of self-conscious anticipation. So this was important to him -- a hurdle he'd cleared ... he looks as if it took more courage up to do that in front of me than to take on the whole West Coast drug syndicate... Even more touching was that her reaction was important to him, too, she could see – he cared what she thought. "Hey," she offered, her voice warm. "Look at you." Her smile relaxing into a more Max-like one than he'd seen yet that evening, she reached out slowly, pointedly, to slide his mug over in front of him.
"Says the X-5 to the mortal." His look shifted from apprehension to self-deprecation, but she could see the relief in his eyes, in the clearing of his brow. "I gave up on Bling's guys ever coming to lower the counter."
As if you ever asked him to set that up. Max didn't let him see her disbelief , but let her smile curl a bit higher, as he'd expect, and she lifted the cookie in front of her from napkin to lips. Biting into the chip-studded treat, she sighed at the rich mix of flavors it brought. "Mmm..." she began. "Logan, you're right; this is awfully good – you've got some real competition upstairs."
Still feeling relieved to see how readily Max took his transfer in stride, Logan settled himself a bit more, and swirled a spoon through his hot chocolate, shaking his head in surrender as he murmured, "She outdoes me in baking by a mile." He looked back up to watch the beautiful face across from him, now feeling self-indulgent for even worrying about his own touchy ego, given how hurt Max had been when he first woke to find her there. Even as she had rallied a bit, he still saw none of her street-wise cockiness there, none of the tough-guy soldier, just a quiet woman with gentle eyes and a troubled heart. She could pull a pretty convincing attitude if she wanted, he reflected. She'd had to cover and con her way through enough of her life not to be good at it.
...but she didn't... And he realized that the woman in front of him, then, might be the real Max, defenses down ... reaching out for comfort ... for his comfort... And at the reminder of just how Max had put her trust in him this evening – did so daily, with her very life – and of just how precious and protected a commodity that trust was to her... he felt that powerful mix of neanderthal and tenderness burn again in his chest.
"You'll never hear me complain." She looked into the sparkling eyes across from her that had met hers at her words. Taken with the strength and empathy she saw there, Max felt herself ready to hold Eva's memory aside for the moment, to push past her own neediness – and to urge Logan back to the expression of pleased accomplishment she'd seen a few minutes before. He was exhausted, and no matter his naps or his rally for her, she wouldn't keep him awake tending to her much longer. She wanted them to end the evening on that happier note. "And don't forget that we came out here so you could fill me in on the juicy new intel you've discovered."
She was glad to see that after only a moment or two's hesitation, Logan relaxed back into the grin he'd worn when he first mentioned it, a sort of boyish happiness in his look. "Oh, just some pieces of information, here and there, that I picked up and passed on..." he drawled, clearly pleased at the reminder of recent events, "and now I get to finish it up as a little story for the P-I." Not only was he proud of what he'd accomplished above ground, all the threads finally coming together earlier that same evening, but he was happy to have something to offer Max other than the Red series or Manticore or more of her own personal nightmares, happy it was ending well, happy he was again helping the city. The fact that it also gave him a chance to show Max bit of his above- ground success was just gravy.
"The newspaper?" She asked. "You're still writing? Doing non-Eyes Only stuff?" She hadn't known ... and in some regret, he realized it had been a while since he'd published in the paper or a magazine of general circulation. It occurred to him that since he'd gotten back home from the hospital he'd managed only a couple esoteric pieces, published in an eco-science journal and political junkie's weekly ... Well, he'd have to change that – and this would be a good start.
"Front page over the fold, and a by-line, too. What better way to convince people I'm still an investigative journalist than to do a story as an investigative journalist?" Max saw his easy grin, itself a feat in the circumstances, and it pleased her to think that he could feel so lighthearted, even happy. He'd been through so much, none of warranted, when he deserved so much better...
"And splash it out under everyone's noses." She smiled in genuine pride and pleasure for him. "Nice."
"It's something that Bling tipped me to recently, the sudden withdrawal of city funding for community free clinics." Logan started explaining recent events, letting his success paint hope over the harsh world around them. "It didn't take long to find out who was behind it all, which pretty well answered the why of the matter. All the internal campaigning among the members of the City Council to cut the funds was traceable back to one person – Councilman Terence Nicholson – Dr. Terence Nicholson."
"The one with the chain of clinics of his own..." Max nodded with the connection. "The 'doc in the box' places that overcharge and send some people home in worse shape than they went in."
Logan nodded. "The very same. He'd actually managed to get himself onto the City Council so he could get access to the rhymes and reasons of the free clinics' funding. In a very few months, he makes some friends, pulls some strings, even manipulates numbers and other statistics to justify it to the public and 'protect' council members who caught on ... and gets clinic funding cut at last month's meeting, all below the radar until the vote's a done deal." No matter the by-line, Eyes Only shone through as Logan explained his recent discovery. "He figures it's the fastest way to cut out his most serious competitors."
"Sounds more like an Eyes Only broadcast than a by-line." Her smile was soft as her eyes sought his.
"Well, he wasn't much of a con artist, no matter his sleazy motives. And the information was ridiculously easy to come by – a wet-behind-the-ears novice could have found this information." He looked proud of his discovery, smirking with satisfaction. "If he weren't so greedy he might have spent some money hiring someone who could have at least secured his files. This was all way too easy to trace to risk Eyes Only's resources, when public records and a tiny bit of elementary data hacking gave me all I needed. The biggest surprise was that someone else hadn't run the story before I had it."
"What will happen with the clinics?" Max had known too any people who had depended on the city's free clinics not to know the significance in his accomplishment – and she now knew Logan Cale well enough to know he wouldn't consider the project completed until he was sure the clinics would be fully funded again. C'mon, this is Logan, she mused to herself, he probably will stay at them til he gets a couple new ones opened, too...
"Got the final word about three hours before you came – on the first call, the City Council agreed to reinstate the funding at its next meeting. About forty minutes after I explained what would be going into the story, the second call came, saying they'd had an emergency tele-conference at which they agreed to reinstate funds immediately, and that they would be happy to provide me with whatever details I needed to add that to the story." His satisfaction with how smoothly the matter had been resolved was clear. "The job gets done, Eyes Only doesn't risk unnecessary exposure, Logan Cale gets a bit of front page real estate... and a hefty check for my troubles."
"Hefty, huh? For Logan Cale?" Max actually laughed, gently. "How much was it, maybe the price of dinner at your Aunt's yacht club?"
"More like what Normal would pay you for fifteen minutes overtime," he countered.
Max smirked. "I suspect you're worth a bit more than that... but I get the idea." She drew her feet into the stool's seat and, hugging her knees to her chest with a limber grace, rested her chin on her knees, watching him, after all this time only momentarily rattling Logan with her feline grace. "When will it run?"
"I'm sending it over in the morning." He was better practiced these days at getting past his ever-recurring amazement with Max, he congratulated himself, but some times – like now – were harder than others... "I think they'll put it in tomorrow – or, the morning after this morning." He looked a bit apologetic for reminding her of the hour. "This week, for sure, depending on what leads each day."
"So Clark Kent saves the day without having to take off his glasses," she teased him gently.
"Or wearing tights," he smirked.
"Don't sell those tights short..." Max's smile caressed him as she watched the tiredness continue to creep slowly over his features, probably aided by the hot milk. She knew he was pushing himself to stay awake, just to sit with her – and just the thought itself was comforting enough to see her through the rest of the night. "C'mon, Superman, you can barely keep your eyes open. Go hit the hay."
"I'm good, Max..." He insisted in stubborn sleepiness.
"I know. But maybe I want your place to myself for a bit, you know, cruise the web a while."
"So you'll stay?" When she wavered slightly, feeling that she again took more from him than she should, he added, "Please, Max ... stay here, at least til it's time for work..."
She could see he sought comfort as well, the comfort of knowing she'd be there – and knew just as clearly it wasn't because he wanted an X-5 bodyguard close by. With a soft smirk, she shrugged, a bare echo of the street girl in her voice. "Sure. There are plenty of cookies left..."
...and the smile she saw in return, in itself, made her midnight trip to his place worthwhile...
Another some minutes past midnight:
Max had convinced Logan to let her clean up their dishes, shooing him out of the kitchen to finish up his loose ends and close out his files for the night. Moving slowly, thoughts wandering back over the past moments with him, the past hours and weeks, Max rinsed their mugs and drew a damp cloth across the counter to catch their crumbs. How different the year had been, this year since the last anniversary of her sister's death – and how much of it had involved the man in the other room. He'd taught her to care about others around her, not only her friends and her absent family, but those she didn't actually know, in need, those she could help ... he'd demonstrated, daily, the meaning of passion and care, of concern and morality ... He'd offered her humanity, and comfort ... He taught her that Lydecker was wrong, that sometimes trusting someone was the only way to save yourself... to save your soul...
...and it was Logan Cale who had taught her that she had one, to save...
And a few more:
"Logan, before you go to bed..."
He looked up from closing down his files to see Max back in the doorway of the computer room, looking small and alone, her voice once more quiet, and the sorrow she'd brought with her again evident. But now she seemed a little more settled, less drawn into herself. She wavered, clearly wanting to talk, but still silent. As he waited, watching, he could start to believe that she understood he was there for her and always would be, that he could help her carry the load when sometimes it grew too heavy, even for her...
And when she still couldn't find the words on her own, his velvet voice came softly, a gentle comfort. "...anything, Max..." He promised.
She met his eyes, still amazed that anyone could say that to her and mean it; still full of wonder and anticipation that it was Logan Cale who did. Seeing only his strength and concern reflected there, she rolled her shoulder away from the doorway to take a step toward him, and another, and sat slowly against his desk. After a moment, she drew a painful breath, knowing that no matter how difficult, by speaking now, the pain might be eased... and the memory of another life finally honored...
"...before we escaped," her voice came in a whisper of mourning and sorrow... and trust in the man who heard her. "I had another sister ... Eva..."
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Won't you tell him please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me
Someone to Watch Over Me
George & Ira Gershwin, 1926
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