DISCLAIMER: Same ol,' same old. (I.e., see previous chapters' disclaimers.)

A/N: Renewed thanks to Coach and the Home Team for the pointers on WC-B'Ball and the niceties of the sport, pick-up game style: you guys have a permanent cheerleader right here, anytime!

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 4:50 p.m.
SECTOR 9; FOGLE TOWERS: Cale Penthouse

Logan took a final glance at the clock and regretfully headed toward the kitchen counter to grab pen and paper, jotting a note and directions for Tony. He'd waited as long as he could, but needed to get going if he were to be at the gym and ready for a shoot around at 5:30.

He knew that his cousin wanted to see the game, and would be there if he could. His own, initial reticence had morphed into self-conscious anticipation that Tony would be there, cheering him on, watching him play. They had both realized that DiNozzo's trip was business, however, and that the case would take precedence. It was actually Logan's preference; he was relieved and pleased that Tony was staying to tie up the cases so both Parks and his mother could be prosecuted successfully, given what they had done to Bling and his team, but by mid-afternoon, Logan had found himself hoping that Tony would be able to get away in time to see the evening's scrimmage and pick-up game. As the day grew later and still no sign of DiNozzo, he felt disappointment nibble at him. At least he could leave directions and hope that Tony would find a way to the rec center. He was firmly confident that, having said he wanted to see his cousin in action, DiNozzo would be there as soon as, and for as long as, he could. Just that knowledge, and the confidence Logan had that he was right in his assessment, was damn near as good as having Tony there.

Finishing the note, Logan spun down the hall, barely stopping as he grabbed his gym bag and ball, heading on toward the elevator. More times than he could count over the past several days, Logan mused, he'd fallen back into being the awestruck little cousin hoping for his hero's approval. With the growing comfort of the weekend they'd had, though, Logan finally came to terms with the fact that that was precisely who they were – he, the little cousin; Tony, the dashing hero. He saw Tony's ready acceptance of him – of him – as the cousin he'd always been, even with the wheels, as at once exactly what he'd expect of DiNozzo, and a rare act of humanity befitting a true hero. He could never, ever wish the events bringing Tony here on anyone, let alone on Bling, a man who had done more for him than just about anyone ever had. But the resulting time with his cousin, with all the reminiscing and catching up they'd done – let alone the strength of DiNozzo's belief that Max cared for him and that a relationship with her was not only doable, but inevitable – was like a miracle cure for the darkest wounds of his soul. He wondered if Tony, or Max, or even Bling, who could read him like no one else ever could, would see the depths of change the past days had brought in him. As he rode the elevator down to his car, he promised himself none of them would ever know just how dark it had been for him ... but maybe they would find it easier to be around him if his outlook wasn't so very grim. Opening his car door to toss in ball and bag, he also promised himself to give it more thought ... but for now, he had to concentrate on getting his game face on...

...and as he pulled out to head toward the community center where they'd be playing, he started thinking about the game, the team, his plan to make tonight his personal best ... and just what the others might think if tonight's 'game face' was just one big, sloppy, goofy grin...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 5:47 p.m.
Jam Pony

Tony had gotten out of the officer's car at the end of the block, not only so that the cop wouldn't need to negotiate the street before them, blocked in at least three places with deliveries, a stalled vehicle and a timid driver trying to park, but also so it wouldn't be awkward for Max in front of her cohorts, a police cruiser at their door. It also gave him a chance to ease up to the place, get a sense of just what "Jam Pony" was all about. His time in Seattle, away from the refined atmosphere of his cousin's penthouse high above the streets of the still-struggling city, made him all the more ready to press Logan into coming back east with him, away from the desperation and the squalor. He knew it was a losing battle – for now. But Tony DiNozzo never gave up hope...

He entered the large, open doorway of the place, and walked down a ramp to what appeared to be a customer desk. At the counter was an officious looking sort in cheap plastic glasses and a terrible shirt. He was griping orders to someone, but if it was directed to a customer on the other end of the phone headset he was wearing, or to the befuddled- looking employee behind him, Tony wasn't sure. Max couldn't really enjoy working here, he thought ... but there were certainly benefits to it, given the unlimited city access it provided, should she have reason to find that ... helpful. And it was the sort of job where she wouldn't need much in the way of a CV: no degree requirements, no previous experience, minimal references (easily faked) ... and no past. Just the ticket for someone wanting to remain anonymous...

The front- desk man finally looked up to Tony, initially attempting to summon some level of greeting for the customer – but with one look at DiNozzo, his expression shifted quickly from forced pleasantness to uncertainty. Another one who sees the resemblance, Tony figured, but spoke up before the man could speak. "Hi. I'm looking for Max."

"Yeah, well, take a number," the man complained, before narrowing his eyes in consideration. "Do I know you?"

"I doubt it. Is she here?" Tony's demeanor was light, courteous – and fully unwilling to become the interviewee. He waited, green eyes looking directly into Normal's.

Uncomfortable at being usurped on his own turf, Normal broke eye contact to feign business with his paperwork, but grumped, "If she is, she's on the clock for another fifteen minutes and I expect her to work, not conduct personal business with ... what are you selling?" Normal looked back up to give him the once over, and guessed, " Insurance?"

Tony's eyebrow lifted in delight at the thought, but, with a wide grin, admitted regretfully, "No ... not insurance. Look, if she's here, she can't exactly be busy delivering anything for you, can she?" He asked, all too sensibly for Normal, who frowned at the logic.

"She's on the clock, fourteen minutes and..." Normal lifted his watch in an exaggerated glance at the time, "Thirty-three seconds. So you can just wait."

"Fine by me." Tony leaned onto the desk, elbows only about six inches from the sheaf of papers apparently demanding the man's immediate attention. As Normal tried to work, Tony unabashedly stared at him from only inches away, face remaining in an affable, waiting smile. Normal fidgeted.

Tony continued waiting. And staring.

"Max!" Normal finally yelled, and looked back to Tony, adding in a hiss, "Whatever it is you're selling, don't stir up the rest of these reprobates; they're barely tame as it is. Max!"

There was a shift and a scrape from a far corner, and Max's form appeared and moved toward them. "What is it, Normal? ... Tony!" The long-suffering expression and wearied tone immediately switched to pleasant curiosity to see the now-doubly familiar face. "What are you doing here?"

DiNozzo turned his back on the counter and crossed the few remaining steps toward her. "Hi, Max." He jerked a thumb back toward the counter and asked, "his name is Normal?"

"For all the obvious reasons," she laughed, and, seeing the beautiful eyes twinkling in her perfect face, Tony fleetingly made a mental note to prod Logan again to get things straightened out with Max, or he would have to arrange an ass-kicking... "You get everyone taken care of, today?" she was asking.

"Pretty much–a couple loose ends left but the important stuff was taken care of. Mama certainly was quite a help," he grinned widely, seeing understanding rise in Max's eyes. "But I'm here for directions. I just got away from the DA's office, and I know Logan will have left for his game by now – do you know where they'd be?"

"Yeah, a community center on past Logan's building from here–not too far, really. But if you're going, you'll want to change, first." She took a long look at the sport coat, trousers and shoes, all clearly pricy and probably still pretty new – so here was another good dose of Cale in the DiNozzo cocktail, she found herself musing. "The bleachers can be pretty dusty and could either leave you with splinters, or your slacks with a hole or two. And you'll probably want something warmer – the place isn't exactly heated too well." She considered him. "Do you have a car?"

"No, one of the cops dropped me off..."

"Well, ride with me. I was going, anyway, and I can take you by Logan's place if you want to change. We can be there in a few minutes. They just do a shoot around, 5:30 to 6, so the game won't be starting til after that..." She began taking a couple steps toward the back.

"Hold it, hold it, Missy." Naturally, Normal piped up when his eavesdropping gleaned information affecting him. Again lifting his watch to his nose, he intoned, "Eleven minutes, five seconds..."

"Normal..." Max groaned.

"It's fine, Max." Tony smiled, and went back to his spot leaning on the desk, elbows closer to the pile of documents now. He leaned well over the desk, peering around nosily at the work there for a moment, freely poking and lifting and peering under items strewn across the work surface, before again stopping to lean his chin on his hands. He raised his eyes to lock onto Normal's, only inches away. "I'll just hang out with my new buddy here, Normal..." The patented smile gleamed off the cheap plastic glasses before him. "When did they start calling you that, anyway? Maybe, oh, what, fifth grade?"

It took only a few seconds this time. "Oh, for the love of ... just go," Normal leaned to peer around Tony toward Max, "and take this lunatic with you."

"Thank you." Tony straightened, beamed happily, and turned to Max.

"And take a good look around now, because there will be a restraining order against another visit, in the morning..."

Tony chuckled at the empty threat as he followed Max toward the back. "Your bike?" He asked, hopefully. At her nod, he tried, "I don't suppose you'd let me drive..."

"Not a chance..." She grinned. "Oh – wait a minute," she suddenly stopped, and smile shifting, said, "I almost forgot a promise ... wait here..."

Tony watched her disappear into the waiting area where a handful of employees sat or wandered, work slower at the end of the day. He heard Max's voice lift, a response, and when a few of the others shifted he was able to see a lovely dark face turn toward him in question as she stood by Max. At the eye contact, Tony grinned, waved ... and the face's mouth popped open in speechless surprise. Within the moment, Max was tugging her friend toward him...

"Hey – Tony ... this is my roommate, my girl, Original Cindy. Cindy – this is Tony. I promised you an introduction..."

"Dayum..." Cindy's amazement survived the trip up close to see that it wasn't just a trick of the light, but that this man – older, on his feet – could nonetheless pass as Logan's twin, given a tweak or two. "Sugah, if I didn't know better..." She gathered her wits and apologized, "Tony, I'm sorry ... Max said you two looked alike, but she didn't say just how much..."

"It's okay, Cindy, happens all the time." He saw Max glance up at him, probably remembering his flat out denial of just that fact when they first met. He squelched his grin. "And thank you, for your help the other day," he continued smoothly. "You guys really helped Bling out. It could have been really bad for him out there, alone."

Max again glanced up at Tony, now in a quick question – was he protecting her, somehow, implying she'd not been there? She remembered her check in scam with him earlier, saying she and Cindy had a first-date call-in arrangement, and figured he might remember that the two of them looked out for each other. Had to be it, she decided... And if Tony saw her look toward him, he didn't acknowledge it. Max was left wondering, for the moment, if maybe he had seen it, after all...

"I'm just glad you found the whack-job before he hurt someone else." Cindy had shifted, looking him over. "And you're really a cop? Got a bit of a different profile out east then, these days." She finally grinned. "But damn if you don't look like Logan..."

"Cindy, we gotta get Tony out to Logan's game, so gotta blaze, 'kay?" Tony smiled privately at what he thought he heard ... another coping strategy? Max's words and her tone were a shade different here than with Logan ... maybe down here on the streets she was more street, to get by and blend ... at Logan's, in the genteel atmosphere of the Cale penthouse, she could be more ... genteel? At least the rough edges could be softened...

As he said a few parting words to Cindy and followed Max back to her bike, DiNozzo felt another wave of admiration grow for the young woman ahead of him, a survivor in every sense of the word. He also, selfishly, felt even more hope that his cousin would let down his defenses and let the relationship grow ... Logan could never be in better hands than he would in Max's ... even DiNozzo's own. And that was something Tony DiNozzo had never, ever believed he would hear himself say...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 5:47 p.m.
43rd Street Recreational Center

Logan had found himself glancing around the bleachers a few times, distracted, during the shoot around; he kept the hope that Tony would yet find his way to the game. And Max had said something about coming to the game – hadn't she? Of course, he grinned to himself as he hustled down the court, she could have told him she was shaving her head and joining the circus and he'd not have registered it, he'd been so stunned by – by what she'd done...

...by the kiss, he finally faced the fact that it was indeed, what it was...

"Logan, hey, will you wake up?" Corey, the team's captain and den mother yelled at him. "What's with you, man? Get your head in the game or we'll replace you with that water fountain over there. It's paying more attention than you are!"

Logan caught the ball snapped at him by the complaining captain and beamed, barely apologetically, and immediately turned and fired up a perfect hook shot from under the basket that kissed the glass and dropped in, nothing but net. "Kiss my anaesthetized ass, Wilkerson," he grinned, surfacing from his thoughts to shift back into "basketball Logan" as Max had taken to calling him, a much more relaxed, loose – and colorfully- spoken – Logan Cale. "Want to bet who scores better tonight?" And don't even start down that double entendre, he warned himself, with an evil grin inward...

"Oh, you bet I want a piece of that," Corey, each week easily the high scorer, laughed. "How much ya got?"

"I got ten that says I'll do better than you do."

"You're on." Corey rolled past deftly for a quick shake on it, high-five style, and called behind him, "and whatever it is you're on, Cale, as long as you want to keep contributing to my kid's college fund like that, keep it up."

"I'll do my best," Logan grinned, meaning every syllable. He pivoted and charged down the court, the bet helping him to focus on the game ahead. If Tony made it, if Max did, he'd be happy to see them. If not, he'd be happy to see them afterward. Whichever worked out, he decided, it would be a very good game...

And as he sped down the court, an unexpected visitor watched in satisfied amusement, having overheard the earlier confrontation between team mates. That alone was worth it, Bling thought to himself, as he eased himself gingerly into the bleachers; worth his shoulder ramping up a bit in its complaints, with his early escape from his sick bed, worth the tongue- lashing he'd get from Sandra if she found out he'd sneaked off to watch a game while she thought he was home, recuperating, worth any grief Logan or any of the team cared to add, knowing he'd just been released from the hospital earlier that day. He knew all of them on the team, had worked with most either in therapy or ongoing training ... but the hardest-won victory on this court might just be the look of sheer pleasure and challenge behind the little wire framed glasses, under the spiky hair, at side court now as the teams formed up to play. Bling settled in to watch the men get ready to start. It was going to be a very good game...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 6:20 p.m.
43rd Street Recreational Center: First quarter

Max and Tony had managed to get to the game only ten minutes into the first half, the teams having gotten a late start – as usual, stragglers were needed to round out the teams, given brown outs and gas lines and last minute conflicts.

They watched, at first standing at the sideline, not wanting to interrupt those watching from the bleachers by walking over them until there was a break in the action. Tony watched in amazement at the speed and intensity with which they played, the "pick-up" game clearly made up of a number of the guys who did it regularly, with some finesse. Max had explained that they were at the point of the year that the league players wanted the extra workout, so even the pick-up games worked toward regulation twenty minute halves and refereed games. No wonder Logan had warned him about his toes, if this was how he usually played...

Max was able to watch the game as she took in the rest: Tony's clear admiration of what he was watching, as well as his pride in his cousin; Logan's now-familiar demeanor on the court, enthusiastic and eager, maybe even a bit more so, tonight; and...

"...Bling?" she murmured aloud in her surprise. "What in the world is he doing here already?"

Tony's attention was dragged from the game, at that. "Where?"

"Fourth row, at the end there – hiding behind the group of kids..." Tony followed her gesture to see what looked like a small class of kids, some of them also in chairs, and Bling sitting behind them, clearly hoping to be missed in the crowd. "How lame is that?" Max smirked, affectionately. "Want to go help me take him out?"

"Wouldn't miss it" Tony grinned. They walked out in the hall and around the gym, to re-enter from the rear of the bleachers. Coming up alongside of his row, Max came up to lean into the bench and stage-whisper, "You are so busted, Mr. 'Logan Cale Is the World's Worst Patient...'"

"Hi, Max," Bling smiled wryly.

"I just knew you'd be as lousy a patient as he can be..."

"So I suppose there's no chance that my being here will be our little secret?" he tried.

"Very unlikely."

"Look, if I promise not to play tonight..." Bling tried charm...

...which didn't work; she'd been made immune by the best. So Bling has taken a few lessons from Logan, Max observed, managing to hide her smirk. The teacher becomes the student ... but not quite as adept at it, yet. "How in the world did you get away from Sandra?" Max demanded.

"PTA meeting she couldn't get out of. Hi, Tony," Bling added, looking past Max. "Hey... I haven't gotten a chance to tell you how much I appreciate all you did..."

Tony waved it away as he looked back to Max. "C'mon, we might as well all be comfortable while you chew the poor guy out." At Max's sudden look of indignation, one amazingly similar to those cast at Logan with fair frequency in their early months, Bling chuckled, and Tony grinned. "Not that it's undeserved..." He looked back to Bling and shrugged. "Sorry, man."

...while at the same time on the court, a whistle had stopped the play, and Logan pivoted back for a quick scan of the crowd to see...

He blinked. Not only Max and Tony, but... they were in deep conversation... with Bling?

...he barely heard the whistle resuming play and had to hustle to catch up. Bling there, after being released from the hospital only that morning? There would be hell to pay, if he had anything to say about it ... but he had a game to win, first...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 6:35 p.m.
43rd Street Recreational Center: Second quarter

Max had given Bling what she thought was just enough grief, given his recent injury, and, properly scolded, Bling was now free to discuss the game with Tony. The former PE major pumped Bling for the details of the game as he took it in – the slight adjustments in the rules to accommodate the chairs, the overall similarities with the usual game, the ranking of players...

"...so that's how they weight things, by injury level...?"

"That, and generally disallow any use of leg strength, so one player can't push off against the chair seat, for example, to grab for a jump ball. Those guys down there represent a whole variety of abilities, and it allows for them all to play without serious advantage over the next guy." Bling watched for a moment, and pointed. "See, for example, that guy..." he pointed to a young player at the court's far end. "His injury is about four inches higher than Logan's, but it's incomplete, so in some ways he's stronger than Logan, some not. With him..." He pointed to another, an amputee, "he's got all kinds of leg strength, but he can't use it in this game. And...yeah, that guy..." He pointed to a teenager with dark hair and a quick shot, "is here with his dad. He's not disabled at all."

Tony blinked, looking at Bling. "He's not?"

"No – and neither is that guy...or that one..."

Tony looked at the group, then turned back to the therapist. "But I thought it was just for wheelchair users..."

"Well, that's the point, but there are always a few friends or relatives who join in ... often they're needed to round out the teams, other times it's just for fun, so they can participate with their buddies ... or family..." Bling suddenly took a long look at Tony. After a pause, he added, "in fact ... they usually bring along a few extra chairs, you know ... in case someone wants to give it a shot..."

Tony looked back at Bling, in question ... and then asked, hesitantly, "but ... it takes a lot of practice, right, to be able to do all that? I mean, come on, pushing and dribbling, all at once? That can't be easy..." He looked back at the game.

Bling let him watch for a moment then shrugged, "Actually, with a pointer or two, most guys can pick it up and play passably well, even their first time out..." Bling allowed a grin to being to grow. "Especially when they already know the rules..."

..another whistle, and Logan again took the moment to glance up to where he'd seen Max and Tony settle in to sit with Bling. But this time there was only Max, sitting alone along the bleacher. At his stare, Max waved cheerily, but at Logan's mimed reference to the missing men, she just shrugged – playing dumb? he wondered. The whistle blew again and there wasn't time to press the pantomime – there were six minutes left in the first half ... and he was gaining on Corey's score...

To be continued...