DISCLAIMER: Please see all earlier chapters.

THANKS for reading. Now that another story has been resolved (at least for the moment. Winter hiatus?) I'm hopeful that this one will be updated in a more timely manner. Any comments or thoughts are welcome – puzzlement, calls for completion, rants or raves – bring 'em on

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 9:53 p.m.
SECTOR 9: Bling's Apartment

Logan's spicy, rich chili had been passed out, Max was introduced to the delights of cornbread, and the discussion soon turned to Tony's day with Parks and his mother.

"Turns out, Mom had it all planned out," Tony explained. "She told me the Navy 'killed Denny.' And her perception of it was interesting, too; she made a point of saying that she was left alone, with a child, and then said 'the Navy killed Denny,' in that order. Best I can tell, Gregory had signs of mental instability pretty young, and didn't do well with his father's death. Almost immediately after Parks' death – six, eight months, maybe – Mom started enlisting Sonny to avenge Papa's death. Insult to injury, to her way of thinking, the Navy didn't do enough to help her, as a service widow with a young child, to get him the help he needed. Of course, after the Pulse, all assistance was cut off, and I think she blamed that more on the Navy, too, than the economy." Tony paused in his story long enough to take another mouthful of chili, then went on, "Over the years, Mom convinced Son that the team wanted his father 'silenced' – although why, I didn't get from either of them. From the earliest months, Mom pushed him to enroll at Annapolis. Gregory told me that his mom said it was 'only fair' that the Navy pay for its mistakes by providing him the training he needed to hunt down members of his father's team."

"So she was really the killer, and her son just her weapon of choice? That's whack." Max snorted, disgusted at the thought. "What kind of 'mom' sets her kid up like that, to play hit man and take the rap for her?" The arrangement sounded too much like Manticore's 'home-version' for her tastes.

"Well, ol' Mom just may be watching too much TV." Tony grabbed another piece of cornbread and munched, a half-smile on his face, giving voice to the long-held assumption that always played through his mind every time he found a perp operating under a similar grand delusion. "Apparently Mom believed that, given Sonny's long history of mental health problems, and his well-documented failure to stay on his meds, he could do nearly anything and walk away untouched, 'cos clearly, he's incompetent, right?" DiNozzo's smile of irony lingered. "It's true that someone who really is mentally incompetent – or who was at the time they committed a crime – might beat the rap. The problem is, TV never tells you just how off the beam you have to be. And I might not be a lawyer – or a doctor – but neither is Gayle. And I'll bet Logan's penthouse that Gregory isn't nearly crazy enough to walk, not by a wide margin."

Logan, not too surprised to hear the pronouncement, was more focused on his cousin's offer to give away his home. "Thanks, cuz," he murmured, a wry twist to his smile. Tony had time only to flash him an amused grin before Bling spoke.

"No mitigation at all, because of it?" Bling was no less ready to accept Tony's words, but clearly had believed that his teammate's son would avoid the worst of the justice system's punishment because of his mental instability. His eyes had darkened in torn allegiance – it had been his teammates who had died, but at the hands of another's son, bent on avenging his father. Somehow, to Gregory, they'd been honor killings... and now it appeared that no matter what he thought was reality, it wouldn't protect him from the worst the system had to offer.

Tony paused a moment, not unaffected by the fact that it was the killer's third target who was asking about clemency. "They'll use it in sentencing, for sure; probably try to sneak it in during trial too..." Tony shrugged. "For Gregory, it might be a mitigating factor, sure, considering his age when his dad died, and how Gayle may have started working on him even then." Mitigating against the death penalty, no one had to add. "Gayle won't have that option, though..."

"So even though Gregory won't skate," Max asked, "Mom won't either?"

"Shouldn't. If nothing else, she shot Bling – at the very least, that's aggravated battery. Given all the information we can provide as eye-witnesses, I'd say attempted murder is more likely." Tony allowed a humorless laugh, "of course, Max already said it – it's whack – and I suspect dear ol' Mom is a bit off the beam herself." He shook his head, shoveling in another bite of chili. "It would be ironic, wouldn't it, if Mom found a lawyer who could convince the judge that she's the one incompetent to stand trial?"

Max frowned. "How likely is that?"

"Well, given she has the potential to face federal charges, as well as state charges in three different jurisdictions, she might have a hard time beating them all – different states use different standards to determine competence. I'm not sure if a federal determination in her favor beats all state standards – that's way beyond my poor second-hand legal knowledge." Tony scraped the bottom of his bowl.

"How easy will it be for them to hang more than accessory on Gayle for the murders, do you have enough information to know yet?" Logan asked.

"Not yet – since they had so much out here to charge her and keep her in custody, Indiana and Texas can take their time developing what evidence they need to make their cases, before charging her." Tony saw that his cousin was concerned, at least momentarily, at the thought that the woman might not be held accountable for her part in the killings, and offered in some assurance, "and even if she's not competent to stand trial, there are other options in some jurisdictions. Like in some places, someone can be found guilty but mentally ill – they're not jailed, but confined in a mental health facility for the duration of their sentence – or until they're no longer ill. So there are a few ways this could go."

Logan nodded, and it dawned on Max that none of this surprised him, as if Logan expected all the legal twists Tony had described. Something he had to know for a career in journalism, maybe, she wondered, again feeling a bit of awe at his impressive store of knowledge. Everyone at Manticore kept saying we were smarter, braver and better than anyone else on the planet, she mused. Guess none of them figured on Logan Cale...

As she looked at him, thoughts less on the two in jail than on the man across the table from her, Logan suddenly looked up to find Max staring at him, and saw her slight smile of self-consciousness. "Who's ready for more?" she asked, standing quickly and reaching for Bling's bowl, offering to take Tony's as well. As she bounced out to the kitchen to start dishing out more chili, Tony looked pointedly to his cousin, lifting his eyebrows dramatically and nodding toward the kitchen. He even managed to look a bit guilty when he heard Bling's soft chuckle at his encouragement, Bling having seen the same look from Max that Tony had. Max was back before anything was said, though, and after setting steaming bowls in front of Bling and Tony, she lifted her own and reached for Logan's. "Some more? You must've worked up an appetite at the game..."

"Sure," he nodded, her smile melting any awkwardness he'd felt at this cousin's prodding. "Thanks." The look in her eyes he saw in return nearly took his breath away ... and as she went back to the kitchen he managed to glance awkwardly back to Tony, who again shrugged toward the kitchen in something like exasperation...

But as payback for his matchmaking, Tony eased his cousin's awkwardness on Max's return by asking her about her job, suggesting that as a messenger she'd probably stumbled into as many awkward or funny situations as new cops did, deftly eliciting a couple stories from Max that even Logan hadn't heard before. As he spooned up more of his chili, Logan watched a master charm tales of Seattle from Manticore's finest, and finally relaxing back into the comfort of the group, Logan sat quietly for the most part, smiling at them all, and once more feeling pleased that, despite the terrible events that had brought them together, the three people he held most dear were around a table with him, chattering away like old friends...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 10, 2020; 10:22 p.m.
SECTOR 9: Bling's Apartment

After another round of chili for everyone, with plenty of salad, cornbread and war stories, eating slowed and plates were pushed back. Max stood and reached for the empty dishes near her and offered, "Guess it's my turn to contribute," she grinned. "Logan cooks, I clean."

Tony stood immediately. "Guess that means me too – I didn't even make the coffee."

"Yeah, but you had a big night on the court," Max reminded him.

"Nothin' to it ... ugh ..." He grimaced suddenly, right on cue, as he reached across the table for the large salad bowl. Bling and Logan immediately chuckled.

"Yeah, different twinges for this style of ball than you're used to, cuz," Logan reached for his own dishes and started to lift them to his lap as he spoke. "Maybe you need to just relax, right here..."

"The hell I do," he bristled good- naturedly, as Logan knew he would, his athletic pride allowing no other response. "Twinges or no, you did all this cooking for everyone, so you get a pass. Keep Bling company."

With Tony and Max moving into the kitchen and splashing water over dirty dishes, Logan looked back to Bling, suddenly handed a moment of privacy he'd been anxious to have with his therapist since they'd gotten back from the cabin. No time like the present, he told himself ... or is it crazy to bring this up now, with everyone else in the kitchen? With a slightly guilty look, Logan nodded toward the nearby stereo and asked, "Mind if I turn that up a little?"

With a lift of an eyebrow, curious, Bling shrugged, one-shouldered. "No..." He knew immediately the music was to mask Logan's words from Max ... and had a hunch, given his conversation with Max before the others arrived, what they'd be about. He watched Logan cross the several feet to the amp and turn the mellow jazz up a little, then come back to his place at the table, looking pre-occupied. Bling suddenly suspected he knew precisely what Logan had in mind, and worked to keep his expression neutral, hoping he wasn't right this time. However, as with all other things involving Logan Cale – he wasn't wrong...

"Look, Bling, I, uh ... I need you ... to..." Logan stopped, almost as if he was reconsidering his earlier decision to broach this with his therapist. In a moment, though, and with a nervous flicker of his eyes toward the kitchen, he looked back at the table, avoiding eye contact for another moment before speaking. "I need you to talk to Max," he finally said, low.

Both of Bling's eyebrows went up this time, in silent question, waiting for Logan to explain – and saw the uncomfortable fidget he'd expected would be next. Good, Bling nodded inwardly, man's got to see how lame it is to try to hand this off to someone else ... and after another few moments of silence, Logan saying nothing, Bling prodded a little. Just a tiny push wouldn't hurt... "Got something specific in mind, or did you just want me to make polite conversation?"

Logan snorted, irritated at the man's sarcastic poke, but still wanting his help ... and though the sounds in the kitchen continued, they wouldn't last much longer. He gulped and spoke, in a rush, "look, I think Max might be interested – in me. But I don't know if she knows what she's getting into, Bling ... she might not know that... things ... are affected; she might think that everything could just go normally ... I don't know. She said she did some reading on the 'net, but what she read, and how accurate it was, who knows. If you could tell her that a spinal cord injury..." He swallowed, mouth dry, knowing he didn't have to finish the thought for his therapist to understand. "If you could explain, so she knows ... and so she knows, too, that ... well, what you said before, that other things can be done..."

"You mean ... have that talk I tried to have with you, on the rehab unit..." He kept his face impassive, but couldn't resist a little bit of 'I told you so.' "If you didn't want to discuss those things, which ought to have been pretty high on your 'things I want to know' list, what makes you think Max will want to hear it from me any more than you did?"

"C'mon, Bling," Logan urged. "I know; I was a mule-headed jerk back then; I admit it," he said in a hushed burst of frustration. He'd confess to nearly anything, to have Bling's help in this. "Look – Max'll be out here any time now. Will you please talk to her?"

"Prep school, Yale, and you haven't read Longfellow?" Bling finally shook his head, wishing he had the magic words that would convince his employer-client that this talk would mean much more to Max if it came from Logan himself. "Didn't work out all that well for Miles Standish, sending John Alden to do his courting for him." He considered the troubled green eyes, and pressed, "Logan, something like this is as personal as it gets ... don't you think Max would rather hear it from you? How is she supposed to believe you want to be intimate with her if you won't at least take her hand, look her in the eye and tell her you want to make love to her, but that you might have to use some unconventional methods?" Bling watched as the face that had shown such happiness over the evening now reflected the anticipated pain of being rejected by the woman who meant the world to him. "Having a talk with her might be just the ice-breaker you need – what better lead-in could there be than the two of you discussing ways to find out what you can enjoy, together?"

Logan's cheeks burned; he shook his head. "I can't..." he whispered. "What if I'm wrong, and she doesn't really have that kind of interest? Or if she's interested in who she thinks I am, but if she knew..." He lifted pained eyes to his friend. "I want her to have an out, Bling. I want her to know what she'll find and if it's not what she had in mind..." Logan looked down again. "She might not be honest with me if I'm telling her, to spare my feelings. If you tell her... she can back out and no one has to be hurt..."

Bling sighed, hoping that the man might change his mind before he'd be called upon to follow through – but nonetheless, nodded, lips pursed. "Alright – on one condition." He saw the desperation in the green eyes and felt a twinge – but just a twinge – of sympathy for how hard Logan Cale made things for himself. "You sit still and get the talk, too – and sooner, not later. Sooner, especially, if you think you and Max may be moving in that direction..." He relented a little, and his voice softened for his friend. "It can't hurt, Logan – and you may find it actually could be helpful."

Under metal framed glasses and above a scruffy chin, Logan's face reddened slightly in consternation, but he didn't take all that long in answering, his griping quietly prickly. "Oh – alright. If it's the only way."

Bling considered his friend, and, another idea forming for his command performance, offered a quiet smile. "Consider it my fee for the job."

Logan nodded, glancing down at the table again, Bling's agreement doing little to ease the butterflies he felt. For better or worse, his relationship with Max would never be the same again: the weekend, hell, the day, had been brilliant and warm and happy, much of it Tony's presence but so much of that, his own response to his cousin's lighthearted outlook and the effect it all had in his moments with Max...

For better or worse... even he was having a hard time talking himself out of Max's interest: her words, on the porch... her sweet, close company as he awoke Sunday morning... but if he was uncertain before, she cleared things up that morning, hadn't she? How could her kiss this morning mean anything else?

"Dessert now or later?" Max appeared in the doorway of the dining room, brandishing the coffee pot and placing the four mugs she carried in her other hand on the table. "Logan made something gooey and warm..."

"Bread pudding," he murmured, smiling helplessly at her description, wondering why it suddenly sounded so suggestive to him, and coloring again slightly as he saw Tony appear behind her, taking him in with a familiar, appraising eye. "It's probably warmed up by now – I turned on the oven just before we started eating." He shook himself and came back to earth, with a glance toward Bling before looking back Max. "We'd better go ahead with it now – our host needs to get his beauty sleep before too long."

"And I bet we'll be out here for your statement at some obscene hour in the morning," Tony added, speaking to Bling. "We probably both need some sleep."

Bling shook his head. "I'm fine, as long as no one expects me to do much other than sit here and eat Logan's food." As he spoke, he heard a key in the lock, and added, "besides, we can have dessert while Sandra is catching up with chili."

"Hey, everybody." With Bling's words, Tony looked up to see a petite, smiling woman walk into the open front room, drop a large satchel in a chair, and cross over to where the men sat at the dining table. Coming up behind Logan on her way toward Bling, she lay a warm hand on his shoulder and leaned in to buzz his cheek with a friendly kiss, returned with a comfortable familiarity by his cousin. "Logan, how are you? Hey, Max," she looked up to smile at the woman pouring coffee for the group, and looked to Tony, adding a hello before moving quickly to the chair where the trainer sat. She leaned in for a kiss, looking concerned and giving him a once over. "Baby, how're you feeling?"

"Great, Sandra – Logan's cooking can cure anything." Before she could voice the thoughts that raised the skeptical look on her face, Bling continued, "Sandra, this is Logan's cousin, Tony DiNozzo. Tony – this is Sandra Jacobson."

The teacher looked back to Tony and moved closer, offering a hand. As Tony took it, Sandra shook it warmly and said, "Mr. DiNozzo, I've heard so much about you – and what you did for BL, in getting those people stopped before anyone else was hurt. Thank you so much ... all of you," she looked at the group. "For all you did to get these two put away – and for coming to spend the evening with BL, since I couldn't stay in this evening."

As Max and Logan glanced up in guilty humor to Bling, Tony stepped in, with his usual charm, to cover any suspicion of the therapist's evening escape. "We're all glad it's over – and please, it's Tony," he offered a dazzling smile. "As far as BL is concerned – any 'family' of Logan's is family of mine – literally. And we were glad to help, but BL got it all figured out before the rest of us did." His light tone and plaudits for Bling brought the wide smile back to the woman's face.

"Sandra, there's chili and salad and cornbread – want some dinner?" Max offered her own help, gesturing back to the kitchen with the coffee pot.

"I'm famished – so yes, please," she started to follow Max. "Let me help..."

"No, have a seat – sounds like you had a long night. We'll get it," Max smiled privately as she went back to return the carafe, this small air of domesticity she was wearing new and, in the circumstances, even fun. Logan had been so happy these past few days, so untroubled since Parks had been caught – and she suspected she'd just walked in on the end of his confessions, to Bling...

...the American Dream, Max, she told herself as she went to ladle chili from the large pot on the stove. Isn't this what you always wanted? Family... home... belonging... And they were all a part of her because of her connection to Logan Cale. She felt her smile widen...

...and heard the familiar sound of his approach as Logan came into the kitchen and grabbed a towel. "Hey," he smiled, suddenly a bit shy at their being 'alone' for the first time since her visit, that morning. "I just came in to get the bread pudding..."

"Oh, okay. Except..." she offered, "unless Bling has a lap tray you can borrow, maybe I ought to grab it." She turned to lift salad and bread with the chili and said, "let me get these to Sandra first."

"Oh – right," he agreed, wondering suddenly that he'd not thought through how awkward it would be, dishing the dessert out of the casserole from on top of the stove where he'd have to have left it. When she returned a moment later, he grinned sheepishly, handed her the towel and backed up, pivoting to grab another serving spoon. "Thanks." After a moment, remembering, he added, "there's also a smaller container in there too, the praline sauce..."

He watched as she pulled out the casserole and placed it before him on the table, then returned for the sauce. "This is all really nice, Logan – how do you do it all?"

"What, dinner? All this stuff is pretty easy to make; the hard part now is finding everything you need to make it right..."

"No ... not just that." She paused, suddenly a bit shy herself, but then continued, "all the little things, the extras. I might think of chili, and maybe even bread, but you make it cornbread, and have a salad, too. You've got bread pudding, but a sauce with it too, to top it off. You make a motley collection of strangers like this" she tipped her head toward the other room, "family. And that's not even counting what Eyes Only has done." She considered him as he gazed at her, eyes sparking through lenses, hair typically askew, chin covered in prickles, and her smile softened as her eyes did. "Manticore's got nothin' on the Cales. I'd like to know what DNA they put together to make you."

Another blush colored his cheeks as he looked away, busying himself with scooping bread pudding into bowls, and he minimized, "Can't be any harder than tearing down a Ninja in a handful of minutes and putting it back together again."

"No comparison. I follow directions – you create." Her eyes held him, as she suddenly realized how apt her words were. "I've learned so much from you, Logan, do you realize that?"

He stopped in his work for a moment, looking up to meet her eyes. Wavering a moment at the depths he saw there, he shook himself again to shrug, "not at chess – or have you?" he grinned, hoping to ease them both back from the emotions he was feeling.

"Never would have won so many times, otherwise," she laughed, understanding his discomfort and letting him retreat. Gesturing now toward the dessert, she asked, "What can I do?"

"How about finding something to put under the sauce, so we can just leave it in that dish and pass it around at the table? And these are ready to go," he nodded toward the two bowls he'd managed to fill. As she came back to the table with a plate and lifted the sauce onto it, Logan added softly, just loud enough for her ears, daring to reach toward her hand and trace his fingers through hers. "...and if either of us has learned from the other..."

Max looked into the sparkling green eyes, shining in hope, and felt a catch in her chest to see what optimism did to his amazing features. Turning her hand to let her fingers lace close into his, she smiled, slowly, "Guess it was a good thing I dropped in back then, huh?"

"Best thing that ever happened to me," he promised.

...to be continued...