DISCLAIMER: Please see all previous. Still not mine.

PREQUEL NOW AVAILABLE! Yes, in a fit of appalling, brazen recruitment lust, I have posted, over on FFN's NCIS list, a prequel to "Concurrent Jurisdiction" entitled "Bookends." Chronicling the adventures of Tony and Logan in August, 2005, it provides a bit of back story for CJ, as well as allowing a cheesy excuse to post on NCIS and try to lure non-DA readers over here. Venture in, if you're game. I'd love to know what you think!

A/N: Special thanks to my technical advisor and coach, who patiently explained the intricacies of the competition involved in this chapter, especially of the "chair vs. toes" variety. Many thanks, from Tony's toes and me!

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 9, 2020; 2:46 p.m.
SECTOR 9

"Nice courts." Tony observed.

Back in town, Logan curved around the large park in the next block over from Fogel Towers, the one where Tony took his morning run the day before, and one Logan could see from his favorite brooding spot in the living room. Getting a good look at the place as they stopped for a light, Tony gazed out across the basketball courts where Logan came several times a week to practice his shots, and to play a few rounds with Bling, or even, once in a while, with Max.

"Just like rest of the park, they're keeping them up." Tony spoke, nodding toward the well tended courts, then turned back to Logan. "Private property, then, huh?"

"No – private donations make the difference, I guess. It's been a public park the entire time I've lived here."

"Nice place to bring Max on a picnic." Tony suggested, grinning.

With a rueful grimace and a blush, Logan refused to look over at his cousin, but allowed, "You must have been talking to Max about that, right? Because that same day that Bling got word about Parks and I called you, she burst in at lunch time demanding that I take a break and have a picnic with her, get some fresh air..."

"No; I swear..." Tony raised his hand, shaking his head, before adding, "You know, everything you say about Max just makes me more likely to stay here until I'm sure you have that little talk with her..." At Logan's sigh, Tony chuckled, "So you'll either have to get going on it, or stop telling me how good she is for you." Tony continued looking out over the park, where, at one end of one of the two regulation-sized basketball courts, a small knot of kids played a pick-up game. A new thought came to mind as the light turned green, and he offered, "Hey, you know, they have leagues for guys who play basketball in wheelchairs – I remember from college, a couple of the majors went out to referee games, even state and regional tournaments. There's gotta be something like that out here; I think it's picked up again out East, especially since some of the community centers and parks are getting funded again." He glanced over to his cousin, to see an undecipherable smirk there, and added, "I'm just sayin,' you enjoyed it before, maybe you'd like trying it now..."

"You think?"

"Yeah..." He kept looking at Logan, trying to figure what the look meant as his cousin's mouth kept creeping slowly, in stages, into a grin. "I do. And you already know all about it, don't you...?' He went on as it dawned on him...

"Yeah." The grin eased into a chuckle, now. "Bling didn't even let me get out of in-patient rehab before he dragged me out to watch some of the local guys play. Actually..." Logan finally glanced over to his cousin, "he and I come out here at least a couple times a week and play Twenty One." Logan's smile softened a little, sadly, as he remembered, "Guess we'll have to put that off for a while."

Tony glanced at his watch. "It's early yet. Let's have a game."

"What, you and me?"

"You worried that I can still take you?"

Logan snorted. "I play with Bling – regularly. The man's in shape. And...well, since you know all the details...I've even been known to play with Max, too, on occasion." To DiNozzo's surprise, Logan actually wore an expression more in keeping with those Tony had seen when they visited each other during Logan's summer vacations, from both high school and college – that of a cocky, self-assured, amateur jock. "The last thing I'm worried about is that you can take me."

"Oh, really?" Tony's grin telegraphed the delight he felt in Logan's reaction. "Well, bring it on, cuz..."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 9, 2020; 3:14 p.m.
SECTOR 9; FOGLE TOWERS: Cale Penthouse

The pair went in to change, immediately, getting ready to head back outside. Tony was done changing first, and as he waited, checked messages on his e-mail – and was pleased to see that one of the requests he'd sent to Gibbs got his final approval over the weekend. A few minutes later, Logan came out of his bedroom to head away from his cousin toward the linen closet, pulling out a couple generous tennis towels, then come back toward the computer room. Lifting a large, empty backpack, he shoved the towels in one side, and came back down the hall where Tony had gotten up to meet him. "Here," Logan lifted the backpack toward him, "there are bottles of water in the 'fridge, and the back zipper opens an insulated compartment." Backpack handed off, Logan pushed on down the hall. "I'll switch chairs and we'll be set."

Tony turned to the retreating back, frowning his question. "Switch chairs?"

The question stopped Logan, who pivoted back to face DiNozzo. "Yeah. You don't think I'm playing in this old clunker, do you?" With a humored snort, he turned back toward his training room. "It's bad enough to use for everyday, while the other one's being fixed." He disappeared into the open room, his voice still carrying back. "No way would it work for basketball."

Tony stared for a moment at the empty hall, considering the spark of the old Logan he saw returning, finally, with the promise of a game of basketball ... and also considering the fact that he'd not even noticed the earlier change of chairs, even though he'd known Logan would have to do something to have a usable one, given the wheel damage to the other...

Tony looked down at the floor, unseeing, eyebrows lifting. Ever since he'd arrived, he'd worked really hard not to let Logan's new physical reality cause him to say or do anything he wouldn't have, otherwise. All along, he'd thought it had taken a conscious effort on his part to ignore the trappings of his cousin's paralysis. But here Logan switched chairs and he hadn't even noticed? A small, relieved smile played at the corner of his mouth ... and he turned to move on into the kitchen, pulling out water bottles to stuff into Logan's bag. Mood continuing to lighten, DiNozzo went on to the training room, just in time to catch Logan moving from his heavier, black chair to a tricked out number with steeply canted wheels, framing of a deep, matte blue-black, and a noticeably lower leather backrest than the one he was leaving behind. "Sharp," Tony nodded approvingly, hiking the backpack to his shoulder as his cousin crossed the room smoothly to grab the basketball in the corner, and caught the short pass Logan popped toward his chest. Turning to follow his cousin out toward the front door, Tony took a last look at the empty chair left in the corner, and turned back again toward the disappearing form. "It really is a clunker, isn't it?"

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 9, 2020; 3:34p.m.
SECTOR 9

The pair went across to the park, Logan catching Tony up on the 'house rules' for playing Twenty One, one of the customary pick up games that could be played, chair against toes, without too many of the latter being broken. As Logan counseled at least one round playing it straight, nothing too fancy or outlandish until Tony got a sense of how his opponent moved and when to watch out for the wheels, Tony walked along side him, bouncing the ball. If not for the ball, he might have missed the small granite marker with the bronze plaque near the park's entrance ... but as he walked, he watched the ground immediately in front of his feet where the ball made its way, and the handsome plaque and its simple, poignant inscription caught his eye...

"This Park donated to the people of Seattle in loving memory of Robert Cale, Sr. and Sara Hopkins Cale."

Tony stopped abruptly, catching the ball and holding it, quietly. He'd known Logan's parents longer than their own son had – and this memorial would have touched each of them, making them proud of him all over again... "Private donations, huh?" He continued to look long at the plaque, thinking how sad it was that Logan's parents never got to know what an extraordinary man their son had become. He looked up, finally, to see his cousin's green eyes catch his, waiting. "They would have liked this, a lot ..." Tony said softly. "You know that, right?"

Logan's smile was soft ... pleased. "I always hoped so..."

Tony nodded, assuring his cousin. "No question." He stood looking long at Logan Cale, unmoving ... and then slowly, with a growing smile, started bouncing the ball again, bouncing it faster to become a legitimate dribble, before snapping the ball over in a quick, light pass.

Catching the ball readily, Logan pivoted neatly and pushed off, dribbling the ball along the short distance remaining to the court. "C'mon, DiNozzo..." The teasing tone was coming back. "Let's see what you're made of."

...and forty minutes later, it would be Tony who was seeing what Logan Cale was made of...

The first game of Twenty One was courteous; as Logan suggested, they played the standard game, starting at the foul line and switching shooters when the other missed, each shooting from the place he was able to catch the rebound.

Or at least most of the first game was played that way.

Logan peered sidelong at DiNozzo, well aware that the ten minutes or so they'd been tossing in baskets wasn't basketball to his cousin – yet. He could tell Tony was initially wary, not so much of the chair but the 'frailty' of its occupant – something he'd seen in others new to wheelchair players. So he let Tony get used to things, making fairly static shots from the foul line and letting the rebound bounce a couple times before catching it. This far, it had been only toss and chase – until this shot from Tony hit the rim and arced...

Logan slapped his rims to shoot straight backward and snatch the ball from the air. Pulling it down and 'defending' it with a spin, he leaned back and fired it up again immediately, pounding forward to catch his own rebound as it came through the basket. Under the basket he shot it up and kissed it off the backboard, letting it drop through again to catch it, arriving at twenty one comfortably before his cousin did. Lifting the ball to snap a neat chest pass to the agent, he smirked. "You ready to play some ball now, Tony, or are you going to keep missing, to 'let' me win? I can still get more of them in than you can, on your best day."

DiNozzo stared at the cocked head and twinkling eyes, still startled – and impressed – by the quick response and skilled moves he'd just seen. With growing trust that his cousin was indeed intact, he returned the ball in an honest, fast-snap pass. Logan caught it deftly, grinning at the sensation of the pass coming at him twice as fast as any had that day. "Alright, cuz, how about this: catch your rebound on one bounce or it's anyone's ball."

Logan grinned slowly. "You sure you want to try that? You're putting your toes at serious risk, there..."

"Hey! I'm a federal agent! My life is full of danger..." Tony watched his cousin's eyes light up with more enjoyment than he'd seen since his arrival. "And I was a PE major ... so I think I can handle it if you can..."

Logan shrugged, "Just so you know, this chair's designed to keep me pretty safe. It's not going to do a thing for you, though..."

Tony nodded his head toward the foul line. "Winner starts; let's go." As Logan pivoted to line up for the shot, Tony called again, "and steals are allowed."

Logan turned back to him, eyebrows high. "Steals? Tony, you're gonna get run over..."

"You chicken?"

Logan's eyebrows continued higher as he shook his head. "I'm not chicken ... I just don't want to hear your complaining when your foot is smashed – or have to be the one to explain to Gibbs about why you're taking medical leave out here..."

"Clean steals, then – just pop and out, no contact..."

"...and chasing down the ball?" Logan asked. Tony considered – briefly, but he did consider it – and slowly grinned – "just depends on who gets there first – and if you can really stop that thing fast enough not to roll over my toes – since I'll be the one in position..."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 9, 2020; 4:28 p.m.
SECTOR 9

After three games, only the second of which fell to Tony and that closely won, after collisions and near-misses of toes and, eventually, more attempted steals than baskets, laughter threatening to wind them more than the games did, Logan's frequent practice and patient attention to his coaches paid off and he was actually able to better Tony's sincere attempts at playing their last two games. Logan's final points in their third game came as he chased down an errant ball, scooped it off a long bounce away from Tony's grasping reach, and smartly pivoted closely in a circle, his back turning to Tony as DiNozzo tried to smack the ball away before it was safely in Logan's hold. Now facing the basket, Tony up court behind him, Logan handily broke away several feet toward the basket, finally leaning back to let a shot sail up and in. The expression of joy in his face, arms pumped in the air, was completely honest – and he turned back to crow, "Take that, PE major!"

"I'm a 50 yr old man!" Tony lamented in a mock concession, walking up to him. "You gotta give me a break! I'm new at playing some punk kid in a science fiction sport-chair..." Right hand and arm extended in affectionate surrender, he threw an easy, free left arm in a hug around his cousin as Logan gripped his offered hand, DiNozzo's congratulations meant for far more than just a few games of one on one.

"Well, what do you want from me? I'm playing on my ass here!" Logan laughed, no trace of rancor in his voice, Tony's spontaneous hug making his day. "Besides, I let you beat me, and I want to see you try telling the guys at your gym what a hot shot you are, 'cos you can take a guy in a wheelchair."

"They see stuff like that last shot, they'd know I'd have to be." They pulled apart and Logan looked up at DiNozzo, his own feelings clear. It was Tony and Logan, together again, as if nothing had changed... and as if nothing had ever been amiss, Tony followed Logan off the court, who, still beaming, led the way over toward the picnic table along side the court. Trailing him the short way across the grass, Tony asked in a good natured gripe, "Hell, how do you defend against that last move, anyway?"

"You don't," came the wide grin, as Logan pulled the towels out of one side of his backpack, tossing one to Tony, and the water bottles out of the other.

Admiration clear in his expression, Tony accepted the bottle held out to him with thanks, cracking the cap open as he spoke. "Damn, cuz, you got some moves..." Tony plopped down on the bench facing Logan, and wiped his face with the towel, pleasantly surprised to realize that their games were brisk enough that, even being in good condition, his heart rate was increased and his breathing deepened. Even more gratifying was that Logan, who actually worked harder at the game, handling all his moves by upper body work alone, didn't seem any more winded than he was. The kid was going to be just fine, Tony finally believed – or would be, once he believed it himself. "You ought to find a league, play with a team..."

Logan took a long draw on his own water, and looked up, a bit guiltily in his grin. "I do."

Delight sparkled in DiNozzo's eyes. "You do?"

His cousin hedged, "Well, at least with a group, mostly a regular weekly pick-up game. There's some league stuff, too, in season..."

"And here I thought you were a complete drudge." Tony beamed.

"You don't think I figured out all those moves by myself, do you?" Logan chuckled, pulling off his leather gloves to put them in the backpack's open, netted pocket.

"And this ought to be 'in season' for a basketball league, isn't it? I want to watch a game. When do you play again?"

"I thought you were going back after the interviews tomorrow." Logan drew on his own bottle of water.

"Never know how the interviews will go." Tony leaned back, elbows on the table behind him, and tried again. "When do you play?"

And the look Tony saw in return reminded him of a four year old Logan suddenly full of the hope that he might gain his older cousin's approval. "Tomorrow," he smiled, self-consciously...

"I suspect those interviews will just keep me too tied up to make it to the airport in time for a flight back on Monday..." DiNozzo grinned. The pride glowing in his younger cousin's face gave him such hope, he needed to see it again before he left, and he knew he would do all he could to get out to see him play with this league, the next day. He again thought of all he'd seen over the several days there in Seattle, all his cousin had become – and, approval having been sent just that day from Gibbs, Tony leaned back to down another quarter of the large bottle of water he held, quieting a little. He lowered the bottle and screwed the cap back into place as he stared off into the distance, thinking. After a few moments of silence, he drew a breath to direct his gaze back to his cousin. "Come work for me," he said, simply.

"What?" Logan's eyes went wide at the completely unexpected offer.

"Logan, the work you did on this investigation with Parks, out here, by yourself, with your home computer system in a community still practically stuck back in the Stone Age – you ran circles around what some of our people do with far more sophisticated toys. I shudder to think what you could do with our resources."

Logan shook his head, seeming to throw up a wall against even considering the offer. "Look, Tony, I'm a journalist, not a cop..."

"Maybe that's it – instincts and training similar but different enough that you'd bring a whole new slant to things. That's exactly what we need – someone to look at what we have as investigators and see it through a different filter." Tony considered the man before him. "You're really good at this, Logan. You'd be a terrific addition to my team."

Logan was still shell shocked for the moment, unable to decide exactly what he thought. "Well, that's flattering, but ... this is my home..." Logan temporized. "I have too much invested here to leave..."

"You have Max here; isn't that what you mean?" Tony watched Logan closely. "Bet she'd come with you, if you asked her."

Logan grimaced, and dismissed the reasoning. "Of course, I wouldn't want to leave her ... but even if she would consider coming with me ... we both have other matters that are here that can't be moved across the country so easily..."

Tony pursed his lips, trying another tack. "You know, it might be safer for Max, out East ... if I remember right, when Lydecker surfaced over the years, it tended to be out west, nearer this area, without much time at all spent searching near DC. I guess he thinks that most of them wouldn't have gotten far as children, so settled in the area, maybe up and down the coast..."

Nodding finally, Logan looked up to acknowledge, "It's probably one of the reasons Max would have a hard time leaving, too, the same assumption." Logan was quiet a moment, then mused, "must be something in some of their survival training, something he taught them."

"You both have to realize that she needs to do everything in her power to avoid Manticore, whatever they are now. They seem to have incredibly powerful backers very highly placed – if they wanted to take her in, not too many friends are around to call to get her loose." Tony hated layering on the guilt to make Logan consider his offer, but it was absolute truth, and an honest concern he had for Max, in this. "Easier to blend in out East; more population centers, closer together – easier to get lost quickly."

Tony noted the irony, a federal agent warning him about the danger to Max from the government, preaching about the relative ease of going to ground there as opposed to here...

"...and it can't be too easy for you out here, in a wheelchair, what with stuff breaking down all the time and repairs nearly impossible to get done in the same decade. Can you even rely on your elevator, here, your power? You seem to have blackouts often enough..."

"...is that why you asked?" Logan looked up to Tony suddenly, steeling himself for the answer, afraid that all that had come before was mere window dressing for Tony's biggest reason of all – his damned physical limitations...

"What?" DiNozzo blinked, not getting it at first. "Oh – no," he then laughed in relief, suddenly understanding Logan's sudden, unexpected chill. "No. Actually, it makes sense for you to come out, for all those reasons – but they were independent thoughts..."

Logan relaxed, his expression sheepish, again appreciative. He then nodded cavalierly, shrugging it off. "Things have worked out ... I can usually get to what I need to do." He wondered if his words rang a bit hollow for Tony, too, as they did for him...

"It's getting better, back East, all around." DiNozzo insisted. "and things look more...hopeful." He shrugged, much like Logan had a moment before. "Less depressing."

Logan actually laughed. "Didn't you once accuse me of choosing depression as a lifestyle?"

DiNozzo looked at his cousin and grinned, unbowed. "You never did learn to loosen up."

"I'm plenty loose." Logan protested. "You've just always been a hound."

"Not so much – only one divorce – we're tied." Tony shot back, grin wide.

Logan's grin rippled grudgingly, but he looked back up to his cousin, still fit and rakish not too far now from his 50th birthday. "What about now? You seeing anyone?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony answered immediately, looking up and away, lips pursed in his cool stance ... and after a beat looked back to Logan, eyes twinkling. "Secretary."

"Secretary," Logan's eyebrows lifted, nodding appreciation. "Someone you just met over in Matt's office, or...?"

Tony reached over to cuff Logan smartly – but affectionately – on the back of the head. After his cousin's quick yelp of surprise, watching Logan still rubbing his head, Tony admitted, "I've actually been seeing her for about a year."

"A year" Logan's eyebrows went even higher, his 'head injury' forgotten. "Serious, then..."

Uncharacteristically, Tony softened a little, a shift that didn't escape his cousin's attention. "Yeah ... maybe..." He wavered, then confessed, "You know ... she's not so much a secretary as an assistant secretary..." He lingered over a private thought, pausing again, glanced up at Logan with a dimpled grin ... and chuckled, "She's an Assistant Secretary of Health and Human Services."

Logan's mouth actually dropped open. "As in ... Department of Health and Human Services? Not ... a secretary in a ... a health clinic, or something?"

Tony leaned back, his laugh easy, soft. "No, cuz." He looked happy, Logan thought. Content. Not something Tony always had in his life – and Logan was delighted to see it.

Grinning widely, he leaned forward, elbows on knees. "So how in the world did you hook up with her?"

"Well, now, that's a long story..."

...tbc...