DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel and NCIS are borrowed; no financial gain made from using them here.

THANKS ONCE AGAIN for the interest and for taking the time...feedback welcomed, appreciated, and given humble consideration. I owe, with deepest love and gratitude, all thanks to my own "Tony," my older cousin who left me with the lessons of how love and hero worship feel to a preschooler...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 9:51 A.M.
Jam Pony

Normal looked up from the package in his hand to see a small knot of his riders in a huddle, clearly up to no good, with Original Cindy, always an instigator, in the thick of things. She was just too smart to be a messenger, Normal sighed once again, just like her buddy–no, her partner in crime–Max. Normal once again silently bemoaned having too-intelligent riders because, given more than two minutes free, they were cooking up something or into some intrigues that had them off and running, leaving him short handed. This looked like yet another one of those schemes...

The huddle broke and Cindy strode purposefully over to his window to tack up a hand made sign. "Hey, hey, hey, Missy; what do you think you're doing?" the long-suffering man complained, grabbing the sign down just as quickly. "No soliciting, personal ads, or 'roommate wanted' signs up here..." He glanced at the lettering, giving a car description, phone number–and Max's name. He rolled his eyes. "I should have known..." he muttered.

"Normal, it's a lost kid." Cindy looked him square in the eye. "One of Max's neighbors–they think maybe he was snatched. Max is out helping them look and she wants us all to keep an eye out for the car."

"Well, why haven't I seen any of this on the news?" Normal griped, relenting a little as he began to believe it was actually possible. "Did they call the police?"

"Yeah, but they won't do nothin' 'cos the snatcher is the kid's daddy–his mama's ex." Cindy was pulling up her bike and, not dropping a beat, took the package from Normal's hand. "He's a junkie who'd as likely sell the kid as he'd take care of him. C'mon, Normal, put the sign back up. They just want to find where he's gone, before something happens."

Normal frowned his hesitation, seeing both the waiting eyes of some of his riders, Cindy's dark, no-nonsense ones included, as well as more of them from the first group now off in corners, huddling with those who missed the first round. Like ripples in a pond, he grunted internally, more good news... "Oh, what the hell," he signed, putting the sign back up. "Just get it over with and get back here fast, or you'll all be working overtime without extra compensation!" His rising voice called after the disappearing backs now hurrying out the door. He sighed. Not so long ago, his little service had been peopled with idiots, but was generally serene. He found himself wishing for those days again...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:23 A.M.
Old Downtown, area of 8th & Pike

He was right, Tony conceded, it's his city...and even though it appears that he's crossing random patterns though town, he's driving with purpose–as if from one planned destination to the next...looking for something...

Tony looked across the area once active as a convention center, now more frequented by "tent cities" and bands of the homeless passing though, looking for work or for passage on from there. A place where fugitives might blend in, he thought. "You're checking out places Bling might suggest, to meet the guy?"

Logan barely reacted to Tony's correct deduction, merely nodding. "And...places a stranger might hide in plain sight..." he tipped his head toward a collection of makeshift shelters, "although without knowing who we're looking for..." Logan frowned, not finishing the thought. "And...places Bling might stash his car if he planned that, before moving on." He was quiet for a moment then grimaced, admitting, "any of these places we've been, he knows they're the first places I'd check–but given the short time he had to plan...I think he'd stick with the more reliable ones, and not take a risk with an untried area."

"Untried?" Tony had promised himself he'd merely file away his questions for later and focus on Bling's whereabouts, but his cousin was making it more and more difficult. "You guys play cops and robbers a lot out here in Seattle, do you?"

"You and your Navy buddies can't be everywhere, Tony," Logan's terse response carried more than his worry for Bling, no matter how serious or immediate it was. Tony looked over at the cousin whose features were so like his own, no matter the distance or years between them. Logan's friends had certainly seen it, he mused, as has everyone, even when Logan was a toddler; family resemblance striking even between cou...

Tony blinked, stunned only the moment with the obviousness of it all, and dug for his PDA with one hand while he reached around for Logan's bag with the other. "I know who it is," he murmured, driven now, too. "Damn it, I know who it is, and I can get Matt a photo..." His voice grew louder with his certainty.

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:26 A.M.
Waterfront

Max drove slowly along the small storefronts and restaurants, keeping a watch for anything that might be connected to the SEAL killer, but knowing there was little chance of just stumbling onto him. A mission took planning and intel, not dumb luck–but while Logan was out cruising around town in hope of such a lucky break, she rode out here more to clear her head than anything.

Tony and Logan might be great at what they did, but she had an advantage here that she had to exploit–of the four of them, only she and Bling had been through the rigorous military training offered the government's finest warriors– maybe very different in plan and place, but federal government nonetheless, and at just about the same time. Max knew that, as compared to either Tony or Logan, she would have a better idea of how Bling would handle this meet–and she knew without a doubt that's what this was. Bling might be years away from it now, but so was she, after all, and when the need arose it was her training on which she relied–and, she was sure, so would he. It fell to her to figure out what Bling would do...

Max considered the work Bling had done with Eyes Only, how he and Logan depended on the other's input and strengths, much as she and Logan did...how each had, at one time or another, used the other as a safe harbor when the other didn't realize, used their information or help at a distance without bringing them into the area of danger...

Bling might well do this alone, in which case she had no one to see for intel. But if he sought help from someone, another car, maybe, or a safe place to regroup, the one providing these things could lead her to Bling. And if not Logan or herself, then who...? Bling worked at a large hospital, an easy target with too many people in too confined an area for him to risk, with people too ill or infirm to protect themselves. Even if he went to a co-employee for assistance, it would be away from the hospital, away from innocent victims. And others? His schedule was tight, these days, barely any social time at all...

...at which thought she paused, wondering... to execute his plans, would he need help badly enough that he would call Sandra? As Max's eyes narrowed in consideration, Logan's phone rang at her side...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:26 A.M.

Old Downtown, area of 8th & Pike

"Who?" Logan had slowed immediately, pulling up along the curb at his first chance, waiting for whatever direction Tony demanded, repeatedly glancing back at the agent for the news as he maneuvered to the curb. "Tony..."

"Denny's son. He's a dead ringer for his father." Tony was checking information on his PDA and punching a number on his speed dial as he spoke. "Student at Annapolis who was out for...hey, Nguyen, it's me." Tony turned his attention to the phone as he pulled out Logan's laptop and opened it to power up. "Look, I need you to get me a file right now, first priority a photo then all available records on an Annapolis midshipman, Gregory Parks..." He shot a glance to Logan. "Get me on here, can you?" He watched as Logan's eyes met his for a bare moment, then dropped to the keyboard as his hands followed a familiar pattern. "Damn, Logan, why didn't I see it; all those years you and I heard about how we look alike...and everyone calling the house thought I was my dad; from the time my voice started changing, they all said I sounded just like him!"

Logan opened his secured browser and pulled back, considering. "Me, too, those last couple years." He chewed on the thought for a moment, realizing it could explain why the victims heard from "Denny." As Tony called up a site, Logan came to the next question. "...but why?" he pressed.

Tony immediately punched in his ID and passwords with nearly the speed his cousin had used, and watched as his NCIS access site opened for him. "Hell, who knows...we can let the psych unit figure that out later...hey, Nguyen, I'm on line" he spoke –whatever you find, send it to standard..."

"It's encrypted." Logan said softly. He saw Tony's eyes flicker at that, but any comment he may have made was interrupted by something he was being told by his agent. "Well, then, look up alternatives, probie! Check current enrollment records, application records if you have to...kid's father was Denny Parks...try, what, Dennis too. Mother Gayle Parks, maiden name Salizar..."

"Try Gregory as a middle name..." Logan suggested, voice still even.

"Yeah, Nguyen, run Gregory as a middle name too..." Tony glanced back at his cousin, prickled that Logan had beat him to that one. "And you're going to tell me this is what investigative journalists do, too?"

Logan almost smiled at the jab, despite the feeling of urgency both were suffering. "Are you kidding? Do you think it's all that easy to confirm identities of stoolies and whistle-blowers?"

He was outwardly so controlled, DiNozzo thought, even though this man Bling was so close to him... Tony suddenly was reminded of Gibbs, focused and determined. The comparison struck him–it would have been the last thing he'd have expected, before coming out this trip... "Logan, why is it that you're..." before he could finish, his attention was drawn back as his agent, speaking in to his ear. "Yeah, what? Dennis Gregory Parks?" Tony glanced back at his cousin with a triumphant grin. "Fantastic! Shoot me a photo, Nguyen, and any file stuff you can manage..."

Logan grabbed his own cell phone to make a call of his own. Bling wouldn't answer but he'd see the number and maybe check the message... he spoke, urgently. "Bling–Tony thinks it's Denny's son, Gregory–Dennis Gregory Parks, midshipman at the Naval Academy, looks just like his dad–what, he's probably 20, give or take?" Logan glanced to Tony who nodded, silently. "Damn it, Bling, let Matt do this–get out of town; you know where to go..." Logan glanced guiltily at his cousin with his words. "He won't go after us. Just you. So let us get this one..." Logan suddenly ran out of steam and wavered, the concern putting him on edge, despite what Tony saw. "Call me, please..." He wavered for another moment, then cut the connection. Immediately he hit another speed dial connection. "Matt, it's Logan–we think our target may be the son of a guy in Bling's unit who was killed on duty. We'll have a photo and his jacket to you in a minute. He's at the Naval Academy, so you can assume he knows weapons and all kinds of attack and evasion techniques..." He paused, then shrugged. "Yeah, maybe." Another pause as he listened, then Logan half-nodded. "Right. Thanks, Matt. Okay; thanks..." One last number called, and the measured voice spoke again. "Max, look–Denny had a son, about 20 or so now, student at the Naval Academy. He looks just like his dad and Tony's guessing he sounds like him, too. Give me a minute and we'll send the photo to you–yeah, on the cell; just hang tight." He paused for a moment, then tried, "where are you now? And nothing...?" He sighed, and said, "Okay, that's good. Look Max–be careful. Kid's had some training..." Tony noticed the faint, affectionate smile that grew on response to whatever Max had said, on the other end. "Yeah, I know...you, too. Okay...yeah, alright." He glanced briefly at his watch. "Bye." He finally snapped his phone closed, and looked over to the computer screen to see the Academy photo and scrolled psych records. He looked up to Tony just as his cousin whistled...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:31 A.M.
Waterfront

It was Logan's call to her, reminding her of their connection, that convinced Max it would be Sandra. The sweet, perpetually sunny teacher had been more and more a part of Bling's life lately, but one he had yet to bring anywhere close to his EO dealings, and therefore only passingly near either Logan or Max. The man had little time for a social life as it was, what with his schedule at the hospital, the free clinic and his work with Logan–but that time, of late, had been given to Sandra.

Sandra cared for Bling a great deal, Max had seen that, and would lend a hand if he needed a ride, needed some supplies...needed a diversion... Bling would ensure her safety, and probably keep her in the dark–but would be more likely to ask her, and not risk any connection to the hospital. Max knew the fastest way to test her speculation was a direct one and, after only the couple minutes needed to get Sandra's number, Max punched it in and waited, holding her breath...

"Hi, Max, how are you?" Max could hear white noise behind the voice, the whooshed, closed sounds through the phone of someone speaking from a moving car.

"Great, Sandra; look–" Max dove in without preamble, hoping that her guess would fit whatever Bling had planned sufficiently that if he had called her for help, this wouldn't make Sandra suspicious. "Bling took off without the rest of the stuff he needed for this morning, and he didn't answer his phone. I know he'll need it–I'm out, myself, and can drop it off–did you talk to him this morning or last night, know where I can find him?"

"I'm meeting him now, Max–at Logan's; aren't you there?" Sandra's confusion didn't help, but Max's pulse went up a few points at getting his location so easily. "He said something about a surprise for Logan, so I just assumed you'd be there this morning, too...he didn't want Logan seeing his car still there, so he has mine. We're trading back once I get there."

"I just hadn't made it over yet," Max temporized, "it's so early...is he done at Logan's?"

"Probably, " laughed Sandra. "that man starts his day when it's still dark; who knows what that's all about...how'd he get Logan out so early, anyway?"

"He didn't let me in on that, either, " Max scrambled for something that half-way made sense, looking more for a casual air than for logic, something that would match the woman's ease and not raise any questions. "Look, Sandra, how soon will you be there? Maybe I can come by...or just meet him at the hospital..."

"I just left school–I had to wait to be sure someone could watch my kids, if I couldn't get back before my prep hour was up. Maybe ten minutes and I'll be there..." she said. "Do you want me to tell him to wait for you?"

Damn, thought Max, bouncing on her heels, standing by her Ninja, the bike too noisy to have a decent conversation as she rode. "No, that's okay..." Sandra hadn't questioned the hospital; she probably assumed that from now out, it would be a normal day for him. "I'm closer to the hospital; I'll leave his stuff there."

"Okay, Max." From her tone, the woman clearly had no idea what was in store–and no way would Bling bring a killer either to the woman he was seeing, or to Logan's home. The meet would be far removed, and Bling could lead her to it. Max moved to straddle her bike, blessing the fates that allowed her to fill the tank the day before and that gave her the closer, five minute ride she had back to Fogle Towers. She would form her plan as she went...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:31 A.M.
Old Downtown, area of 8th & Pike

Logan looked from Tony to photo of the sober looking midshipman, and back to his cousin. "Something?" he prodded.

"Yeah–seems our young Gregory had some 'adjustment problems'–missed two separate semesters of six–depression, stress-related illness–hospitalized both times..." Tony shifted the computer back to his cousin, without being asked, so Logan could upload the photo and other information to Matt's system. "Doesn't mean he's a serial killer, but it doesn't help his cause any..."

"They let him stay in, with an ongoing mental health condition? Is the Navy that hard up for new blood?" Logan's hands made the quick connection, sending the photo of the midshipman, along with the contents of his Academy file, to Matt.

"Yeah, well, once in, they're given a chance; the Navy tries to help them out. His dad being Navy too, and lost in the line at least as far as they knew, they probably gave him extra time and help to get himself together."

"Done." Logan popped a key, then handed the computer back to his cousin, and looked up, out into the crowd. "Where would a kid from out of town go to meet a local, for the purpose of killing him?' Logan asked. "Any paranoia in his diagnoses?"

Tony shrugged. "Don't see any." He sighed, watching the crowd with Logan as they sat at the curb, guessing that his cousin had, for the moment, run out of places to look. "Maybe someone who knows him..." His eyes narrowed; he looked at Logan, staring for long moments, seeing but not seeing him, mind working down potential outcomes. "I talked with his mother..." Tony began.

Logan seemed to sense the dilemma immediately: would calling the mother do more harm than good? Would she help them bring in her son safely, if she knew it was to lock him away forever– or worse? Would she even know his likely actions, given he'd been away from home more of the past three years than not...? He didn't have time to finesse... "You don't have a choice," Logan absolved him of any potential error in this, urging action in his soft, measured voice. "Call her, Tony."

With a fast nod, Tony checked his PDA quickly, and punched in a number on his cell phone. He waited, saying nothing, and at the slight shift Logan could hear in the sound from the small speaker at Tony's ear, he saw Tony scowl. "Machine," he growled. He waited until the message played and, in a voice shifted to lighter but heartfelt concern, Agent DiNozzo spoke. "Mrs. Parks, this is Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, from the other day. I've got some information about your husband, and I think you'll want to see it right away. Will you give me a call as soon as you get this message, please?" As he reeled off his phone number, he looked up to see Logan mouthing additional words, and Tony nodded readily in understanding. "No matter the time, day or night–call right away, please." Snapping his phone shut, Tony conceded, irony not hidden, "Good point. From arranging informants' meets, no doubt." As he settled back into the seat, Tony stared ahead, demanding, almost good naturedly, "Well, since we have no immediate leads and are just sitting here passing the time, why not let me in on exactly what all an investigative journalist does out here in the wild and wooly west, cuz?" He turned to Logan with a professional eye. "Do you all engage in such elaborate cloak and dagger?"

Logan would not meet his gaze, not ready to confess, but not willing to lie to Tony, either. "Why shouldn't it be a little cloak and dagger?" he stalled, "It's not like preparing the society page..."

"Maybe you should switch. They'd still let you into the Yacht Club, wouldn't they?" The words were not entirely light.

Logan grunted, "You sound like everyone else. Is it just because...?" The mecanical shrill of his phone interrupted his question. "Yeah–what? You're sure? Yeah, great, Sketchy, thanks..." He dropped the phone on his lap and pulled out into traffic, the third degree suddenly forgotten.

"Sketchy...?" Tony eyed him skeptically.

"...who just saw Bling's car heading back into Sector 9, not far from my place." Logan grinned. "On our way...cuz..."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:39A.M.
Sector 9; Vicinity, Fogle Towers

She had stashed her bike in a safe place she'd found a block away, knowing it was likely that Bling was out and waiting for Sandra to arrive, so could hear her approach. Damn, so he'd just stayed in the area and let them scramble? She had to remember his training, had to start thinking what she might do in the circumstances...

Max dropped back into alleyways and silently ran up behind the building, listening carefully, trying to sort out traffic sounds from human, from environment...at least Logan's neighborhood was one of the more genteel, and therefore less noisy with people on the street or crammed ten to a room...

She slipped into the garage at a far point, behind a large, rarely moved sedan, and immediately heard a noise–a shifting, human sound. Maybe he'd heard her and was on guard, but even so, that small reaction gave her a location and, coupled with the dead silence following, told her it was the former SEAL, in hiding, who knew how to wait quietly. Now that she knew his game, she'd not let him throw her again. In perfect silence, moving so that even her clothing didn't rustle, she sided up to where she could feel him waiting...

"Okay, Bling." Max spoke softly. "Sandra will be here in five–just about enough time for us to come to an understanding."

Her words were met first with silence...but then Bling stepped sideways into the dim light. As he did so, Max did as well, and the two warriors faced each other, warily. "Why are you doing this alone?"

From her, it wasn't an accusation as it had been in Logan's voice, or would be in Tony's; Max would understand that different conflicts required different response–and he knew she merely asked him his assessment. He drew a breath. "One man–looking for one man. He's hurt others and I decided that if he were to call, I'd offer to meet him, draw him away from everyone. He's just a kid, Max..."

"Denny's son."

Bling's eyebrows went up. "When did you figure it out?"

"Tony did–this morning. They're feeding his photo to all the sector police." And yours, she thought, but didn't share that knowledge with him yet–it would depend how this went. "And you?"

"I had wondered–I knew Denny had a son, in the Academy now–and that he had always favored his dad. Since Denny was dead, I figured it might be him, and he admitted it to me when he called last night." Bling wavered, thinking of taking a step toward her but knowing full well he could not overpower her–not unless he took her unaware, which now was not likely to happen. "Max... let me do this. You stop me now, he'll change the place, or the conditions, but he won't stop 'til he has me. He's not well...he's killed and he knows it; he's not afraid to take others out if he has to." Bling looked at her, levelly. "He's been trained by the best, knows how to fulfill a mission and has nothing to lose. You don't want him to bring this to Logan." Bling played his hand.

Max's eyes flickered a little with exactly the images Bling wanted her to see. "No." She agreed. "You have a plan?"

Bling hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Outlined. Filling it in as I go."

"Then let me come with you." Max said flatly.

"No, Max; I promised, I said I'd be alone and I don't want to frighten him off..."

"He'll never see or hear me. I can get your back, Bling, before either of you is hurt."

The tall man's eyes revealed his understanding, how his own safety as well as the boy's would be far more likely, with Max's unique talents helping him along. "I can't put you at risk..."

"One college student; how much risk is that?" She half-smiled, sensing his capitulation. She almost relaxed now, her hand in controlling the situation giving her much greater calm, even if she was coming closer to the threat, than if she were at home, without any information to consider or actions to take. "You know what I can do, Bling. Let me do this."

Bling again wavered, then allowed, "One condition." When she asked, with her eyebrows, what it was, he held out his hand. "Cell phone. Logan and Tony know nothing til its over. Just us, Max; we deal and worry about the out of joint noses later."

Max hesitated, not liking the deception this time, knowing the worry Logan felt now, and how he would feel at her secrecy. "They might stumble onto us, anyhow..."

"Might, but doubtful. They'll just come rushing in, full of good intentions and amateur enthusiasm." Bling said, direct in his assessment, one in which he knew Max would not disagree.

"They're worried," she tried with less conviction. "Let me just tell them you're alright, and we'll handle..."

"It's a deal breaker, Max..." they both heard Bling's car pull into the garage but did not break their gaze. "Say the word. You agree, the phone is left here, and you and I figure out how we'll do this safely. You say no and I skip this meet. Kid gets pissed and comes looking for me– here... wherever... civilians will be in the way, whether or not it's Logan or Tony." The car stopped now several feet away, engine idling, and two pair of dark brown eyes held each other long moments.

Until Max reached into her pocket and drew out the phone Logan had given her, her pager along with it. Placing them both in Bling's hand, she murmured, "Let's get this bitch over with..."

And with a bare smile, Bling nodded his assent...

...TBC...