DISCLAIMER: Please see earlier chapters. ALL of them. (If that doesn't wear down an interest in seeking financial recovery for this, I don't know what will – there is just no profit here, I swear. If only there were...)

A/N: Sorry for the delay, and thanks to those prodding for more of this. I'm afraid that, of late, "cold, nekkid Logan" had my attention more insistently than "basketball Logan" did. Go figure.

THANKS for reading; reviews appreciated!

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 8:45 p.m.
SECTOR 9: Bling's Apartment

Max followed Bling into his apartment, looking around the place with interest. She hadn't been there since he moved in several weeks earlier. "Nice," she pronounced. "Gotta be better than your old place, by the hospital."

Despite the protests of all involved, Bling had assured the others that the short ride to his apartment would not be made more painful for him riding on the back of Max's motorcycle than in Logan's car. In the interest of time and the increasingly late dinner hour, they finally relented, and Max provided a cautious and relatively bounce-free ride to his apartment so Logan and Tony could go directly to Logan's place to pick up their dinner.

"It was convenient before I had a working car," he mused. "Working for Logan definitely has some perqs – the man certainly has his connections. A dependable car and a mechanic..." he chuckled. "They let me get away from the hectic part of town."

As Bling nodded the way in toward the living room, Max took a few tentative steps off the path to peer into the kitchen, and peeked around to see another hall stretching the other direction. In only another moment, though, she turned back to him. "Point me to the coffee and I can get that started. You..." She pointed to living room to order, "start taking it easy. After all, we can't all be transgenics." He was clearly not too comfortable with his role as "caretakee," and she mugged a bit for him to lessen his continuing awkwardness at being the patient for a change.

"You don't have to do this, you know... I'm fine." Bling stood his ground outside the kitchen as he watched Max lift the coffee pot to the sink, but winced as he moved to take off his jacket. Seeing it, Max immediately switched off the water and moved to his side, gently holding the jacket back so he could slide his good arm out of his sleeve.

"I know; of course you're fine... 'cos you're just as stubborn as Logan. I have to wonder which of you taught the other." She gently pulled on the jacket's sleeve, freeing his good arm and, clearing his bound shoulder, lifted the jacket away him to drape it on a kitchen chair. "Besides... I want to help, if I can..." Her voice softened a little, and she looked up at him steadily, gratitude in her features. "You've taken care of both Logan and me enough in the last year or so ... and I want to return the favor. And it would be even easier for me to kick your ass now than when you're in better shape, so I suggest you just make yourself comfortable."

Bling saw the smile that began to lift her features, and shook his head, knowing there was nothing more to say. He would never admit it to any of them, and wouldn't let it show, but he was feeling the exhaustion and discomfort he knew should be expected, given his injury, the recent surgery and his own body's working to heal itself from being so abruptly rent apart. He crossed over to the cupboard and pulled out a small canister. "Here's the good stuff. It's a party, after all."

Max looked up in question, opened the can to take a whiff of the rich coffee's aroma, and frowned, "Oh, Bling, are you sure you want to use this? Save this for you and Sandra..."

"No, Max, it's fine – one of my patients gets it on a fairly regular basis – I've even been able to supply Logan here, lately." At the thought, he grinned in sudden, gentle amusement. "It's nice to be able to be the inside source for him, for a change.."

"I know what you mean," she laughed. "Not an easy guy to top. But now that you've gotten me the coffee..." She lifted her eyebrows with the repeated suggestion that he relax. This time he didn't fight it, but went on out to the living room, flipping on a couple of lamps as he went, to fill the room with soft, subtle light. He found that his shoulder and upper back muscles had stiffened a bit, probably from unconsciously guarding his shoulder, and at the leather, sling back chair that seemed to put him at the most comfortable angle for now, he gingerly lowered himself onto its contours. With a careful sigh, he relaxed into the soft leather. He really had pushed things a bit ... Max might be right: he was suddenly being as stubborn as his often high maintenance client, who was on his way home to fetch dinner and bring it back with him, here...

Only a couple minutes passed before Max came into the front room where Bling stretched out. She came up before him and fixed him with an appraising look. "Could I get you anything? Do you want something other than coffee, while we're waiting?"

"No, Max, thanks – but if you'd like something, take a look in the 'fridge. I'm not being much of a host," he apologized.

She shook her head. "I'm good. You heard Logan – you're not a host, you're a patient. And it looks as if finally, you may be getting that part right." She crossed over to the couch facing his chair, and sat at one end.

"What's going on with Parks, Max, do you know?"

Bling's voice had softened; he was still feeling the guilt that he hadn't found a better way to help his teammate's son. "No, I haven't heard since Tony went to the police station today – he was supposed to see both of them, with Gayle scheduled for an interview this afternoon. I'm hoping he can fill us in over dinner." As a friend, Max looked at Bling in concern, understanding that he must feel about his teammates as she had her family; the bond forged in training and service a special one, as much family as any flesh and blood coincidence. But soldier to soldier, it never occurred to Max to try to cover up or soften the outcome, whatever it might be: facts were facts, and in this, Zack was right to belittle sentimentality. Knowledge was always better than pats on the head...

Bling nodded, quiet for a moment. Not dropping his gaze, he offered, "Max... thank you for your help with him, out at the Quay. If I'd had tried to go in alone, I don't know how things would have worked out."

"Tony pretty well ran the show, once he got there..." she minimized.

"I know. But you had no way to know he'd show up, too. And if he hadn't been there... the two of us would have been more likely to get the boy in, without anyone being hurt, than if I'd been alone. I really didn't want anyone coming along – but I knew that the odds were a lot better with you there." He paused, and soft smile returned. "And I knew you'd be the one to find me if anyone did, before I got out of town." At her shrug, he went on, "I didn't think I'd have too long before you'd realize that just as you would, I'd fall back on my training as the best basis for deciding what to do."

"Lucky guess as to what you'd do and who you'd call," she conceded. "I knew that if Tony was there to think like a cop, and Logan was there to think like... well, Logan," she grinned, "someone had to think military strategy."

"I'll remember that, for next time." Bling's smile was actually a bit more relaxed now, as he started to put parts of this "mission," step by step, behind him.

Upon seeing it, Max offered another portion of the puzzle. "You know that it was Gayle – his mother – out in the audience, who shot you?"

He nodded. "Logan mentioned it. And I thought that's what I remembered hearing, out at the Quay."

"Tony was hoping to talk with them both before they decided they needed a lawyer involved. And he's got both the FBI and NCIS working in Florida and Maryland as well as Houston and Indianapolis to get as much as they can, to put them both at all three incidents."

Bling sighed, frowned. "Parks was clearly psychotic by the time we got to him, out there ... but what was his mother's involvement? Was she there to drive the getaway car?"

"She had a weapon of her own – she was his back up, looks like."

"A midshipman, using 'Mom' as back-up?" He shook his head in dismay. "And someone with a personal vendetta doesn't usually take back-up, do they? That's why they call it a 'personal' vendetta..."

Max laughed softly at Bling's gentle irony. "Well, maybe Tony got somewhere with them. I have a hunch he could even coax the sun to shine on command."

At her words, Bling's expression grew more serious. "You want to be careful around him, Max. I know he's Logan's cousin, and he's honestly a good guy. But he's also a federal cop, a very sharp one. If he has any reason to suspect you're on the government's black op 'most wanted' list, he might have 'duty to country' pegged far higher on his personal ethics scale than favor to family..."

"I wouldn't want him to have to choose. I wouldn't want to know what that would do to Logan," she admitted softly. "I'll remember. It's hard, though, with Tony – he's just too..." She hesitated, not finding the right word.

"Charming? Yeah, he is. And I think it's genuine, for us, at least. But I imagine he learned long ago that not only does it work on women and family, but used just so – it's an efficient and effective interrogation tool."

"'More flies with honey?'" Max tried.

"Something like that," Bling smiled, letting his eyes close heavily for the moment, taking the moment to focus his breathing on the discomfort he felt, calling up ancient techniques now second nature to him, to minimize the pain and speed the healing. While relaxing helped, it also called more attention to his injuries ... and his failure to mind them and keep on top of his pain...

Max saw the small crease across his brow and understood. She unfolded herself from where she sat, offering lightly, "At least I planned a bit better this evening – turtleneck," she laughed, pulling at the snug, fitted neck of her bright red sweater. "I think the coffee's done – I'll get us a cup." She sauntered out to the kitchen, moving slowly to give him a few more moments alone, to regroup. He might even be spent enough to doze, she realized, and didn't want to keep him awake if that were the case. Tony and Logan both had wanted to grab a fast shower after their game, so even though they were close enough that there wouldn't be check points along the way to slow them down, it would probably be nearly 9:30 before they got over to Bling's. A fast nap might do him good...

Bling was right, of course, about Tony, she reflected as she pulled out two coffee cups. And she knew better to take anything – or anyone – at face value. But she had a feeling about him, that he had more respect for individuals and for what was right, over any allegiance to bureaucracy or government entity. Maybe part of the genes he shared with Logan, along with the green eyes and dazzling smile... She would continually remind herself to remember who and what he was... but she could not make herself believe he was a threat. The fallout on Logan, if ever that proved to be the case, was too painful a thought to consider before it was necessary.

She'd puttered several unnecessary minutes, and finally came back out to the living room, walking softly in case Bling indeed dozed. But as she came in he shifted, eyes opening again to her. "Thanks," he offered, as she handed him a cup. He watched as she went back to her corner of the couch, and said, "Logan said your weekend at the cabin worked out really well."

"Yeah, it did... you talked to him since we got back?" Max felt her curiosity perk up. Was it after I dropped in on Logan... or before?

Bling was nodding. "He stopped by the hospital this morning, and when he found me gone, came by here, apparently to give me grief about getting myself released so soon," Bling's smile carried his amusement at the role reversal. "He said all of you had a great time."

"We did..." Max agreed, letting it die for the moment, a picture of studied casualness. Then as if to make conversation, she asked, going for an off-handed tone, "Did he say anything ... specific?"

Bling's smooth countenance never changed, but his eyes twinkled briefly with a quick, knowing look. Too interested in seeing things move past all the awkward dancing, Bling decided to take the path of greater resistance. "Didn't have to. I know he's having a terrific time with Tony being here, but that wasn't really it. And I knew he wasn't talking about Bennett. The great Eyes Only has no poker face for some things in his life, Max, certainly you've seen that by now – and at this point, you're one of them. Something happened between you two this weekend, didn't it?"

Manticore's finest blushed hotly, apparently not outfitted to camouflage emotional reactions her designers never intended her to use. "How? With three other people there..." she stalled.

"Uh-huh." Bling had his answer – at least, the important part of it. "Look, it's not really my business – well, most of it isn't," he quipped, "but as a captive audience to the world's slowest courtship... I have an interest, you know?"

"I can see that," she rolled her eyes.

"Look, Max... you know how I feel about you both – or you should, by now. I'm just glad to know that you both are still interested, that one of you isn't having fantasies the other wouldn't consider."

She was quiet for the moment, staring at the floor, lower lip nearly stuck forward as she thought. "When did you two talk?"

"After lunch, maybe twelve thirty ... why?"

After she'd interrupted his therapy, then... Crazy to know if Logan had said anything, and too drawn to the obvious advantages in having before her the man who knew him better than anyone did, she finally blurted, "well, I don't know about his fantasies... but the last time I saw him before the game, I laid a lip lock on him. It's all on him, now."

She had never before seen Bling taken completely by surprise, as he was at that moment. "Max!" He grinned, delighted.

"Maybe his prickliness wasn't as thrilled as you seem to be, if he didn't even mention it..."

"Max," Bling assured her, laughter still infusing his reaction, "do you really think Logan Cale would admit that happened, before he had a chance to analyze it six ways, research it, get with you at least three more times to gauge your continuing response to him and talk himself out of what happened twenty times in between?" He saw her grudging smile of agreement, and beamed. "Once he gets all that out of the way, though... he's going to realize that you meant it. It would be important for anyone, Max, but for Logan..." Bling shook his head, pleased with events, "it's about as powerful a potion you could mix for him."

She blushed again, Bling's take on Logan's reaction gospel, as far as she'd ever seen. "I hadn't planned it; it just... happened..." she admitted.

"That's okay. Works just the same. And maybe, for you, it tells you something about what the man does for you."

Max looked up at the wise eyes, and felt a small smile growing. "I already knew..." she said softly.

"Yeah, but... a reminder is good, too." Bling urged. "Max... you don't have any doubt that he cares for you too, do you?"

The question – no, the answer – was a thorny one. Her brow drew into a small knot, and she considered. "I... think he thinks that if the Pulse never happened ... if he weren't in charge of saving the universe ... if he hadn't been hurt and if we were the same age, yeah, we might have a shot at it." She shook her head. "Those are things I don't quite know how to fight, Bling."

"Sure you do–just as you're doing now. Think of them as layers of kevlar, Max. He's laid down all these reasons, one by one, why things won't work out between you, and wrapped himself all snug and safe in them. That way, if something goes wrong, he can point to any one of those reasons as being the problem, not you... and not him." Bling saw the chocolate eyes glimmer with sudden moisture, and urged. "You just stand by him ... nudge him ... give him that lip lock..." his soft smile curled up, wryly, "and one by one, those layers will dissolve. He's built up those walls over a lot of years and a lot of effort. It may take a bit of time to get past them, but you're getting there."

Max felt her eyes mist slightly as she swallowed, hard, and opened her mouth to speak – but before she could, a commotion was heard in the hall. Blinking rapidly to clear off the mist, she bounced to her feet. "Sounds like dinner is here." Moving toward the door, she ordered, "You stay put–we'll get it working." But she stopped at his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, looking deeply into his eyes. "Thanks, Bling," she whispered. As he raised his hand to cover hers, warmly, she bent suddenly and kissed his bald brow. "You deserve one, too." She blushed, making self-conscious excuses for her emotional outburst.

As she bounced away, he grinned again to himself, happily. He shifted to push himself out of the chair, despite Max's orders, to come into the kitchen and meet the others. Maybe there will be a happy ending for those two, he mused. If only they get to it before they're too ancient to remember what to do about it...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 9:25 p.m.
SECTOR 9: Bling's Apartment

"Bling, what are you doing up? Go lie down or something." Tony had looked up from the box he carried, full of Logan delectables, and grinned widely in greeting despite his words.

"You guys made good time." Bling ignored the demand, but returned Tony's grin with one in kind. "Coffee's ready." He looked to Logan, bringing up the rear with smaller load on his lap. "What do you need, Logan, bowls or plates or what?"

"Umm... probably only serving spoons; we can serve out of the dishes they're in. Bowls for the chili and salad, plates for the bread and cheese?"

As Bling moved to open a cupboard, he managed only to open the appropriate door before a slim female figure suddenly slipped in between him and the counter. "Nothing doing. I thought I told you to relax – you get comfy and we can handle things from here..."

"Lucky I don't have Logan-issues with strangers in my kitchen..." Bling muttered, archly. He glanced up at his client who rewarded his comment with only a smirk. "Silverware is here, serving stuff in here... bowls and plates with Max, there, beer and other cold drinks in the 'fridge," he mapped out for the others. Reaching into another drawer, the therapist grabbed the contents and lifted them for display. "I've got the mats and napkins." He went out to the dining room table, leaving the kitchen to the invading horde.

"What about Sandra, Bling, will she be back in time to eat?" Logan called from the other room.

"Dunno – she called; they've gotten held up with some funding issues." Bling turned to cross back the handful of feet into the kitchen doorway, and leaned against it. "The school board reps are there tonight and it's nearly coming to blows. She thinks it will be at least ten thirty or eleven."

"Well, we'll plan for her and if she doesn't make it we can at least save some for her – she may have worked up an appetite in the battle." Logan glanced up with a grin of his own, and Bling was struck by the physical changes only the few days seemed to bring the man – color in his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes faded to nearly nothing ... his brow, almost clear. Bling had never known Logan before Eyes Only, and not well before he'd been shot, but he wondered if he was seeing a part of what Logan might be, without all the pain and responsibilities... or maybe he was just seeing a beleaguered man finally willing to believe he might get a piece of the dream, too... "Okay – we've got chili, salad, cornbread..." Logan was announcing.

"Cornbread?" Max hummed. "Something new?"

Bling chuckled. "Actually, something very old ... ancient cultures all had similar breads. And just right for chili..."

"Yeah, Logan's Famous Ancient Incan chili, I suppose..." Tony pulled the heavy pot from the box, and put it on the stove, turning then to look at his cousin. "Maestro, does it need to be on heat or anything?"

Logan rolled his eyes but answered steadily, "Just give it a taste and see if you think it needs to be warmed up before we eat." He watched Tony fish out a long wooden spoon from one drawer and a table spoon from another. Logan grinned in satisfaction. "Ah, you've been housebroken," he said knowingly.

Tony's eyes twinkled. "The hard way." Curious at the cousins' words, Max and Bling watched as Tony first stirred the pot with the wooden spoon, and put it aside to take his taste with the smaller one. "Okay for now," he pronounced, "but it may need a bit of heat to keep it here."

Bling pushed off the doorframe to come toward the stove and turn on the burner, amused at the show. "So there is something to cooking skills being a family thing..."

"Doubt it. All I know is what was burned into me – literally – by a few random dates..." Tony placed the tasting spoon in the sink and turned back to his cousin. "The salad, cuz?"

"Oh. On the table, Bling?" Logan suggested.

"Sounds good." He watched Tony lift the large bowl from the box and carry it into the other room. Bling looked back at Logan, who caught his gaze.

"What?" Logan tried again, much as he had following the game.

Bling shrugged, one-shouldered, and shook his head. "Nothin' really. Just thinking of how this all could be worked into a therapy program, that's all." Logan's cheeks flushed warmly, ratcheting up even higher as he saw Max's eyes dart quickly from Bling, at his words, to Logan, to assess his reaction. When she glanced away, an amused grin spreading her face, Logan wondered if his cheeks were now as red as her sweater.

He knew he'd been made, knew Bling could always read his mind – apparently, being shot and surgically repaired didn't faze the swami from seeing right through him. But as much as the usual grumpy Logan in him wanted to gripe at them all for being right ... he was simply too buoyed and happy with the weekend – and with all of them – to even think how to start. Instead, he simply gave up and grinned, eyes never leaving Bling's, "Everything's ready but getting chili into the bowls. Max, you and Tony want to get that started?" As the two set to work on the dishing up, Logan, unmoving, maintained the long look into Bling's eyes, neither man wavering. After long moments, Logan finally chuckled in concession, his voice low. "One of these days, you're going to be wrong about something." Bling understood the reference and was touched by what it meant to the man before him. "When that day comes... you'll never live it down..."

"You think it's coming, do you?" Bling challenged.

Logan laughed, the sound, finally, a genuine, happy, untroubled one, long unused by him. "I wouldn't dare put money on it..."

...TBC...