DISCLAIMER: DA and NCIS borrowed, not for profit.

SINCERE THANKS hanging in. To those who asked, this is definitely S1, falling somewhere after Cape Haven but before I And I Am a Camera (which time, as far as I'm concerned, could stretch for years...)

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:22 P.M.
Metro Medical

Visiting hours were long past, but Max was not only confident she could get to Bling's room without much problem, she was certain that was where she'd find Logan. One quick trip past Fogle Towers and a glance at his place to see only the dim kitchen light reaching the windows, she knew that neither cousin was back yet, and, having her fill of Crash but not yet ready to head to home, Max went to find company. She might even manage to talk Logan into getting some much-needed rest, himself...

She slipped in an unattended door near the emergency bay, a favorite late night entry nearly a year ago when she was here regularly, checking up on a then-oblivious Logan Cale, and silently went up the stairs to the fourth floor, where Logan said Bling had been moved. The halls were nearly deserted and, as she'd learned in the past, as long as you moved here as if you belonged, a family member or other permitted visitor, the medical staff didn't stop you. In fact, Bling being one of them, the staff was likely to let rules be broken for him, as long as it seemed they were broken for his benefit. It was probably why Logan could still be here: how could anyone–especially the mostly young, female nursing staff tasked with getting Bling better–question the ministrations of the worried green eyes above such an adorable, scruffy chin?

It was just as she'd imagined, so perfect it raised an unconscious grin on Max's face as she looked on: a dim lamp glowed in the corner of the room, Bling propped against pillows, sleeping, his arm bound to his chest and shoulder swathed in crisp, white binding...and, at his side, a head of spiked, crazy hair bent over a keyboard on the owner's lap, attention focused on whatever mission was at hand...

She sauntered toward the open door and, leaning there, called to him softly. "Hey."

The hair popped up; the green eyes turned to her to glitter in pleased surprise. "Max..." he whispered. Immediately flipping off his brakes to turn and nod toward the hall, Logan came up behind her as she went a little way down from the open door. Max turned back to him as he smiled up to her, happily, clearly not expecting to see her. "What are you doing here?"

"I swung by your place and saw it was dark, so I figured you were still here." She let her eyes point back toward the room. "How's he doing?"

"Remarkably well, all things considered–a combination of being very fit, and very lucky. It'll take him a few weeks, and it won't feel too good at first–but Sam said Bling's surgeon thinks he'll bounce back in record time."

Max's smile was warm with relief–for both Bling and his self-appointed nanny. "Why do I have this feeling he'll make as good a patient as you do?" Her smile broke into a full fledged chuckle to see him shift and snort softly, saying nothing in an ironic refusal to reinforce the comment. "Who came up with the term 'patient' for guys like you, anyway?"

The green eyes looked up to hers in a gallant effort to look irritated and pedantic, but it was hopeless, and she just laughed again. Despite the strain and sleeplessness of the past several days, Logan looked better than he had in weeks–as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She thought about how he'd seemed around his cousin, and wondered if they'd had some time yet, just to get to know each other again.

Figuring she'd know soon enough, she tipped her chin at the computer still in his lap. "Whatcha workin' on?" she tried.

"Shopping list." He announced. "Did you get my message?"

"The cabin?"

"Yeah. No major plans, but we'll have enough food at least for dinner, breakfast and lunch for five– and there's plenty of sleeping room, even if all five of us decide to stay up there for the night." He looked to her, paused, and cocked his head slightly. "Interested?"

"Sure. Sounds like fun."

Logan had a sudden, clear memory of hearing the same response from Max the first time he invited her to a Cale family function. But this time his own response was quite different–and far more relaxed and content. "Yeah, it does," he nodded, his smile gentle.

"Need some help with your plans?"

"Nah. Unless there's something specific you'd like to take up there–it's not supposed to snow, so you won't be needing skis or snowshoes. I packed a collection of music, something for everyone..." He lifted his eyebrows, nudging at her enthusiasm for the trip. "Anything else you can think of?"

"I'll think it over," her grin widened as she registered his ease, seeing that he was actually looking forward to this. She felt a wave of gratitude that despite how bad the past week had been for Bling, and by association, for Logan, it had also resulted in the cousins getting together again and getting their relationship back on track.

"You remember the way?"

She nodded. "Been there once, the route's locked in. Part of the package."

"Well, that would be handy," Logan mused, in a chuckle.

"You know, I remember back when at Manticore, all the work they were doing, all the research," she began, watching him as she found herself spinning a story. "No matter what they did, no matter what genes they spliced or doctored or futzed with–they finally came to the conclusion that the Y chromosome just cannot accept the gene for directional skills and map reading. Couldn't get homing pigeon to mix in the cocktail." She beamed to see the smirk in response, the rolled eyes–he was relaxed and enjoying the teasing and when Logan was happy, she felt like flying ...

"Well, even so–you're welcome to ride up with us males, who happen to have been there often enough that we actually remember the way. Unless... you want to have your bike there, too...in case you decide not to stay..." he looked up as he spoke, going for a casual shrug but his eyes gave him away, looking hopeful... expectant...

Ah, Logan, she thought–happy and relaxed, but still concerned I might get the urge to bolt? How could he not see that as weeks had turned into months in whatever this was that they had together, the anxiety she'd felt early on, that need to escape, had eased to where she hadn't run from him in many, many weeks?

...and another thought struck her on the heels of the first: they'd only been to the cabin togther once, if you could even call it that–and it was the one time they'd kissed– a desperate, needy, momentous kiss. That was back when she hadn't yet stopped running from him –but it was the last time she had, given what came shortly thereafter. How would she–how would they–deal with this history amid family and all the water under the bridge?

From finding the way to finding their kiss, one memory to the next, that other trip rushed back to her, not stopping with the kiss, but on to the pain of what she thought at the time was inevitable: leaving him, maybe forever...the loneliness of watching the Aztek turn and leave her there... the inexplicable dread that had awakened her to call and learn that Logan was undergoing emergency surgery... his near-death and the dreams she'd shared with him during the transfusion... Those brief hours had changed her life inextricably, and made her face the truth of the matter, that she loved this man, craved him, needed him, and was still at a loss to know what to do about it...

In a sudden stroke of brilliance, she asked, "Hey–when was the last time anyone was actually up there, inside the place? You know, to air it out...see if everything was working? When we were there, the power went out, but that may have been the storm and nothing with the place itself..."

"You and Zack were the last," he said softly, eyes missing nothing, watching her, closely, it seemed... did it mean he was thinking about it, too?

"What if I go up before you guys do, you know, open it up and be sure what you need is there... you can give me a call and let me know what you'll need and I can check to be sure you only bring the essentials." Her words tumbled, a little rushed, and with an effort she paused, hoping for nonchalance, and drew another breath before she shrugged, "you've even got a washer and dryer there; I can do the sheets so they'll be fresh for company, maybe throw the blankets over the porch railing to air for a bit..."

He smiled slowly, touched. "Thanks, Max; that would be great." He looked skeptical for only a very brief moment. "You're sure you don't mind playing domestic?'

She grinned, a bit more control there, now. "I'm sure–and it justifies my burning some gas to ride my baby through fresh mountain air, when I have a perfectly good ride in your car."

...and he bought it, she decided. She was being honest that her offer wasn't entirely altruistic–but it was more than gasoline. All she knew was that if she were to arrive when he did, even after he did, just the surroundings were likely to throw her enough she might embarrass herself or Logan or the both of them, even fracture whatever balance they had now. But if she could get there first, settle into the memory and even look forward to making happier memories there...definitely worth some housework...

"Well, thank you, then..." he was saying again, and his voice and eyes had glowed with a warmth that made the nape of her neck tingle. Not ...Heat? No, no way; not the time and not the symptoms... so it was the other, she swallowed...the 'L' word... She tried to focus on his words, to get her head back in the game. "...it will be a lot nicer not to come to a stuffy, shut-up cabin."

"No big dealio..." her voice came out barely over a whisper. What was that? she kicked herself. Try for casual banter and you get infatuated whispers...She mentally shook herself and asked, voice low but more controlled now, "what time were you two thinking of heading out?"

"Oh, later-morning–maybe 10:30 or 11:00?" he tried. "Whenever we get packed up and moving..."

"I'll be there by nine, then–and you can call me to check up on how the place is fixed for pots and pans and towels" she smiled brightly again, forcing herself back to her more rational self. Not so easy with those green eyes that happy...

"Then you'll need these...," he shifted around to rummage in the satchel slung on his chair, and pulled out the phone he'd given her earlier, along with her pager. "The security guys found them–Bling called them from the car, I guess...?"

She'd forgotten. "Yeah," she reflected, "about ten minutes out–he called to report they'd been left in the garage, that they were yours and where to find them." She was quiet for a moment, then conceded with a smile, "he's good." She looked at the electronics in her hand, and nodded, "thanks."

"Max, if I didn't say it–" he too quieted, the darkened hallway adding to the hushed atmosphere. "I'm really glad you were with him, today..."

"I just found him first," she minimized, "we were all there with him..."

"I know, but..." he shrugged, having so much to say that again, he didn't have the right words. "If he'd gone in alone..." He trailed. "...but you didn't let him. "

"We didn't," she smiled again, happily. "With Eyes Only on the case–Bling never stood a chance."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 8, 2020 8:59 A.M.
Sector 9; Fogle Towers

"Hey cuz–where'd you go?" DiNozzo's voice bounced down the hall from the abandoned computer room where the agent had already learned to expect to find his cousin, nose to screen.

"In here–hey." Logan pulled back out of the pantry as his cousin came out to the kitchen, freshly showered and comfortably dressed in jeans and grey sweater. Logan had still been asleep when Tony left for his run, and was just coming out from his own shower when Tony had jumped into his. "Good run?" He crossed back to the work island, several small jars of spices in his lap, which he set along the counter beside a couple canisters of grains and dried fruit.

"Yeah–that park across the way is nice; it looks as if it's been kept up well, despite everything." He peered at the sheet of paper on the counter in front of Logan, a computer print-out with almost as many strike-outs and handwritten additions as original entries. "What's all this?"

"Changed my mind about dinner..." Logan looked up from his list. "I've been trying to decide what we need to take up to the cabin to feed everyone, what would work out the best. I figure we may have all five of us for both dinner and breakfast, maybe even lunch, so we need to have those meals covered. The little grocery near the place closed years ago, so now we have to go back almost ten miles to get to Semples' store. It's easier just to try and anticipate..."

"Let me help–what can I do?" DiNozzo asked, then lit up. "No, even better–teach me to make something, one of those gourmet meals of yours–pass on the family genius." Tony perched on a counter stool. "'A DiNozzo miracle' –hey, that has a nice ring to it..."

"You're serious," Logan blinked up in surprise, half grinning at the thought.

"As serious as I know how to be," vowed Tony. "Besides–Valentine's Day is coming up; I might have someone I want to surprise with a little home cookin'...

"You intending to make it dinner for five?" Logan's eyebrow lifted.

"No...but you could show me how to do it for two..." Tony rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "C'mon, it can't be that tough..."

"How'd it go from 'genius' to 'it can't be that tough?'" Logan laughed, shaking his head, then shrugged. "I suppose I could make something easily adaptable..."

"...and easily done?"

Logan nodded, considering, and his eyes lit with a thought, "and Italian?"

"You can do Italian?" DiNozzo beamed his delight. "Authentic?"

"Well, I don't know how authentic, but there are several dishes I can think of that can be adjusted for how many people you want to feed–and what the market has available. Ah..." Logan's eyes lit even brighter. "How about something you can build ahead, so that if you have problems and need to regroup..."

"Cuz! I'm hurt! You don't think I can do this?" Tony's larger than life "hurt" brought another grin from his cousin.

"Yes, I think you can do this–but there's wisdom in having a back up plan, don't you think?" Logan smiled slowly. "Besides–the flavors can mingle that way, it will be even better–and you have less running around at the last minute."

"Where do you learn this stuff?" Tony grumbled. "Maybe it is tougher than I thought."

"But you got back-up on this one, cuz," Logan said, smile lingering. "Only a phone call away..." He looked back up at his cousin, pleased that he could offer Tony a hand... "and it's not all that tough. You'll sweep her off her feet–with even more than the usual DiNozzo charm."

"'Charming, and he can cook, too.' I like it." Tony's wide grin was back. "Okay, cuz–what are we making?"

RURAL WASHINGTON: February 8, 2020 8:59 A.M.
Cale Family Cabin

Max pulled up to the cabin and cut the engine, the silence immediately surrounding her, fuzzy and thick in the light, remaining fog that hadn't yet burned off. Seeing the cabin for the first time since setting out on foot, sick with worry for the man she'd tried to leave behind, she felt her throat thicken and her vision swim. He's fine, Max; he's healthy and no one can make you leave him again if you don't want to go, she told herself. It was still and beautiful, it would be a wonderful visit with the cousins back together, no aunt and uncle to make them miserable, Marianne and Max allowed in to join the reunion.

She held on to the present as she got off her bike and walked toward the cabin, memories of the past still wanting to intrude. He's fine, he's healthy, and no one can make you leave... she repeated with each step. Opening the door to the familiar sights and scents, she repeated the words in her head... she gathered sheets to start the laundry, opened windows for a bit of fresh air, and carried blankets to the porch to hang them on the railing... He's fine, he's healthy, and no one can make you leave...

She checked all the lights and outlets, peeked in the refrigerator and rattled the flue. The firewood bucket was empty but she remembered where to find the dried, seasoned wood in the boathouse. With a peek in the linen closet for a quick count, she drew a settled, calming breath and went to open the small bag she'd brought of sweet-scented, tinned candles, moving to place them in the bedrooms and around the front room. He's fine, he's healthy, and no one can make you leave, she repeated for the last time as she dialed the familiar number and started lighting the candles, the tiny flames helping banish the ghosts. "Logan? Hey..." she began. "So far, so good..."

RURAL WASHINGTON: February 8, 2020 6:17 P.M.
Cale Family Cabin

"Alright–you set it at 375? It can go in just like that..." Logan directed, "On the middle rack, there."

Sitting on the counter and watching the men work, Max peered over at the foil wrapped rectangle Tony held as he opened the oven to slide in the casserole, wrinkling her nose at the unfamiliar shape. "What sort of culinary surprise is this?" She looked over at Logan. "Something new?"

"Actually, it's officially a DiNozzo miracle, to be technical about it," Logan looked up with a grin.

"A DiNozzo miracle?" Max repeated, turning to Tony, eyebrows raised. "You made it sound like cooking wasn't part of your repertoire."

"Not til the master chef here gave me some lessons." Max glanced back to Logan, who sat silently, mashing garlic into some butter for the long loaf of bread he'd just sliced, but grinning widely. "Max, did you know he actually has a little room off the back where he has lights wired up, and pots of tomatoes and peppers and herbs growing?" Tony baited.

"Wow, he didn't let me in on his little secret for months." She feigned awe. "You must have some crackerjack interrogation methods."

"I caved when he wanted to use the dried stuff." Logan chimed in, grin quirking.

"So, what is it?" Max asked Chef DiNozzo.

"Lasagna." He grinned–but nearly as quickly, turned back to his cousin. "Lasagna–right?"

"Right," Logan laughed.

"Max, this gourmet-chef business is nuts. He decides we're making Italian, so he works up this red stuff, this tomato sauce..."

"Marinara," Logan prompted.

"Marinara, because even though he doesn't know yet what he's going to find at the market, he knows he can fake it, with the sauce, and we need to cook it for an hour anyway, for the flavors to blend..." Tony looked back to Max, asking, "Did you know they did that?" He warmed up to his story, watching the look in Max's eyes when he spoke, watching her imagine Logan's actions, seeing Logan's quick glances up toward the beautiful woman. He went on, "so we leave the stuff..."

"The marinara" Logan chuckled.

"...the marinara, to cook..."

"Whoever heard of an Italian who can't remember 'marinara?'" Logan muttered, shaking his head.

"...and we go to the market, and he just–wanders around the stalls, sniffing and poking and 'hmm-ing' to himself..."

Max laughed, "yeah, and if I had a nickel for every minute I've been there with him for that very performance..."

"And he just...grabs a bunch of unrelated stuff and brings it home and starts me cutting and building and...he calls it lasagna." Tony shook his head. "He says it's gonna work, and be ready for Bennett and Marianne's arrival at 7:00."

Max grinned. "It will. Trust me. I've watched him; he never misses."

"You just haven't seen the stuff thrown out before you get there," Logan smirked.

"Never happened." Max said smugly, and it took all of Tony's self control not to pop his cousin in the head, knock some sense into him. What was Logan waiting for? "And...salad and garlic bread?" she was asking Logan.

"Yup," he straightened, and, handing the prepared butter to Max, suggested, "want to show Tony how to do the garlic bread?"

"Aye-aye," she slid off the counter to confess, "he taught me how to do this last month."

"You know how to do the dessert, too..." Logan murmured, glancing at her only briefly.

"What dessert?" she frowned only a moment before her face lit up like the sun. "S'mores?" she beamed.

"Now, how could we come here and not have s'mores?" he asked, not looking up, not trusting that he could survive the look he'd see...

Involuntarily, DiNozzo glanced back to see that even with eyes averted, Logan carried that same, trusting look Tony first saw at this same cabin, nearly thirty years before, full of love for both of the fledgling cooks at his side. After all the time and all the pain, Logan could still find that feeling? Tony knew his cousin was as stubborn as they came–so he vowed he'd find a way to show Logan he had no choice in the matter–that he and Max were meant to be together...

RURAL WASHINGTON: February 8, 2020 9:40 P.M.
Cale Family Cabin

Dinner had been perfect: the food was extraordinary and comforting, the company warm, happy, and entertaining. Even old family stories were enjoyable, and Max found herself as interested as Marianne was to hear stories about the younger cousins' childhood from the memories of their older cousin. Max found herself laughing with the others, adding in on occasion, but mostly, stealing glances at the middle cousin, the one who appeared to have forgotten the woes of the downtrodden and the burdens of his physical injuries to join in the laughter, name calling and male one-upmanship the likes of which she'd never before heard from him...

They lingered over stories and coffee and s'mores at the fireplace; Logan finally shooed everyone from the kitchen as he loaded the dishwasher with the plates bused by the others. Finishing up, he started another pot of coffee for the hardcore like himself, and finally satisfied, turned to leave the kitchen to find the front room empty. With a soft smile, he went on out to where he'd heard them go, a few minutes before...

"Hey–" Logan came out on the porch to find Max by herself, sitting balanced on the railing along the porch, silhouetted in the light of the full moon and stars that won the battle with the handful of clouds crossing the sky. "Where'd everyone go?"

"Tony went upstairs to grab a jacket and make a call home, he said. Bennett and Marianne went for a walk and the way Marianne was peering at the moon...I don't think they really wanted company," she smiled, and Logan's grin in response made her breath catch, just a little. Had she ever seen him so relaxed, for so long?

He moved closer to where she sat, coming out to the edge of the steps, to peer up at the sky. "Look at that..." he mused, softly. "As if we ordered a perfect night..."

"The sky's amazing, isn't it?' She managed. She was aware that her pulse had quickened, and found herself wondering if he was too lost in the beauty of the night to remember she was there... For long moments they shared the silence, their breath forming little puffs of steam. In the still of the winter evening, every sound was magnified, every breath, every movement...every thought? Max imagined...

"I always forget how much I like it out here, the stillness...the peacefulness...it's as if the Pulse never happened, as if we're light-years from the city..." Logan's rich voice was even more velvet, more devastating, here in the quiet and the dark. "Only thirty miles away, Max...why don't we come out here more often?'

Why don't we come more often?...as if they were a couple, as if they had been there, on occasion...she shivered slightly, and not with the cold. He was lost in thought and, she hoped, didn't notice her delay in speaking–or her shiver. "Gasoline?" She hoped her response sounded casual, easy. "Even with the money to pay for it, it's not always there when you want it."

"Maybe we should just move out here," he mused idly, looking at the billions of stars peeking though at them in a clearing of open sky. "What do you say, Max?" He looked up at her, his expression soft and unreadable. "Chuck it all–move out here–go Thoreau on everyone...?"

She felt trapped not by the thought that he was seriously asking her to move out here, with him–but that he wasn't, that he wouldn't, that it was just a mental game and not an idea he could seriously entertain. She fell back to the casual, to humor, a light, glib response. "You wouldn't last thirty hours," she tried.

He chuckled–warmly, a rolling, contended sound, even if a bit sad. "No? Well, it's a nice dream, though, isn't it, getting away? No bad guys, no black market, no sector police..."

"No Normal..."

He laughed again, and fell still for a moment. After a pause, he drew a breath and began again, "But really, you know, if..." He turned to her and as their eyes met, something...happened...pupils dilated, breath held...it was as if suddenly, in that moment, each ran out of denials, each knew the other's thoughts... Time hung suspended, the silence wrapped around them in a soft, supporting blanket... until, finally, self-consciously, Logan managed to find his voice. "...if you did want...sometime...to get away..."

She nodded, as if in a dream. "...only thirty miles..."

"...right..."

They wavered, and the stars, the night...and the green eyes so clear to her even in the dark all combined to lead Max to an entirely new experience: hearing words in the air, in her own voice, just as if her mind had disengaged and her heart spoke directly to his... "The last time...when we were here... and we said...I said...that I was just emotional..."

He froze; he held his breath. His eyes held her and he waited, afraid to guess what she had to say...

"...I lied..." She whispered.

He only started breathing again when his chest burned with his need for air. He licked his lips, daring to hope... "...Max..." he began, his hand, palm up, reaching toward her and feeling a searing, electrical jolt as her fingertips brushed his...

"Hey Logan, look!" The boyish glee in Bennet's voice was unmistakable as he emerged from the trees out front; the stab of dismay in Logan's chest sharp ...and the oath from Tony upstairs heard only by Max–who barely registered it in her own disappointment... "I found the cash box we hid in the hickory tree, what, twenty years ago..."

"Great..." Logan called, eyes never leaving the large dark eyes so near to his... "Max..." he murmured, aching, letting his hand curl around hers just for the moment...

"Great" Tony groaned into the phone from the second floor window where he'd found he could see the couple on the porch, updating the audience on the other end. "Almost! Damn it, she broke the ice and I swear he was going with it..." DiNozzo stewed as he listened to the sympathetic, feminine voice on the other end of the line, and watched from the darkened second floor as Bennett and Marianne came back up to the cabin from their walk, Bennett, at least, blithely unaware of what he'd interrupted. "I know...I know..." Tony sighed, wanting to drag Logan and Max aside and...what? He wasn't sure if he wanted to throw cold water on them to wake them up–or throw them in a hot shower together to get them moving. He finally turned from the window that had become a post from which he could monitor his cousin's progress, and pulled a sweatshirt from his bag, his excuse for coming up for a private call. "Maybe Tuesday, probably Wednesday," he answered the question from the other end. "Didja miss me?" At last he grinned into the phone, and was pleased by the response he heard. "Of course," he answered. "It won't be long." He paused again, and his smile lingered as he said, "yeah, and I wish you were here to meet Logan. And Max. But we'll get everyone together soon, one coast or another." He paused once again, listening to the woman who lit up his expression, there in the dark. "Okay–okay, sweetheart, get some sleep–it's pretty late out there–see you in a couple days...I love you..."

Tony snapped his phone closed, peered again outside just in time to see the crowd make their way inside, and heard them stamping with the chill. "Logan Cale, do not let Max get away," he muttered under his breath, as he headed toward the door to join them downstairs. "Max, you got things started–don't bail on him now..." And taking only a moment to center himself, went on to the group below.

–to be continued–