Disclaimer: I still don't own Dark Angel.

Huge thanks to Shywr1ter for making this sound better, fishing out odd words and very patiently putting up with a well-tended herd of stupid, little mistakes. All remaining mistakes are due to my inability to discipline them.

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In his years in the hospital Bling had dealt with many kinds of patients, was used to a variety of reactions to the injuries and illnesses that required his help. There were the people who considered their time with him a necessary evil and saw him merely as another part of the inconveniences with which they had to put up now, or there were those others who shared their life stories with him, making him not only the therapist for their physiological but for their emotional needs as well.

And still, despite his experience and outward calm, there still were those patients that really challenged Bling, the ones with whom he couldn't just go home and enjoy his evening – in short people like Logan Cale.

As so often, Logan was hard to assess, his status as patient and friend, employer, admired local hero and object of worry making it impossible to find a sane amount of professional distance. His attitude to their therapy sessions oscillated from dull resignation or absentmindedness to driven, almost angry overachieving that seemed to be fueled by the secret hope of getting back his legs.

Sometimes, when he almost had to drag a reluctant Logan from his office onto the therapy table, where any attempt of starting a conversation was stifled by Logan's gloomy, empty-eyed gaze, Bling thoughts drifted off with that disturbing question always lingering in the back of his mind: what would have happened if someone else had taken his job with Logan, someone who didn't know about Eyes Only and couldn't have helped to revive his vision of making the world a better place? What if the other therapist had been less resolute, less experienced in the tricky art of balancing between understanding and not tolerating self-pity?

Who knew what would have become of Logan if he were left to his own devices… In all likelihood he would have locked himself into the ivory tower of his penthouse, with nothing to do and alone with the depressing thought of how useless he was now.

Isolation would have come almost naturally with nobody waiting for him to come home, no family needing his love and attention, no friends expecting him to rejoin them for their normal activities. There would have been no job forcing him to go out and socialize, his only reason to leave the apartment the occasional check-ups at the hospital. Maybe, even, he would have spared himself the stares that came with the wheelchair by having everything delivered to his door.

In eerie stillness Logan would have sat by the windows, the glassy barrier separating him from the dizzying edge that now seemed so alluring. Ignoring his altered silhouette, he would have stared down at the city below where life took place without him, not for an hour or two as he sometimes did now after a long day of work, but from morning to evening, caught in a numb cloud of sadness.

Possibly he would have caught himself, something perforating his lethargy and piquing the interest of the old Logan he'd managed to stifle almost completely.

Or perhaps his days just would have continued to be a demonstration of his indifference for life, just barely resisting the baiting thought of bringing it to an end.

Would he still be alive? Maybe… if in this parallel universe Max had decided to come back, giving in to the mutual fascination that lured them both out of their familiar surroundings.

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Knowing how difficult the first weeks after the shooting had been for Logan, how he was still struggling with his new reality, Bling registered all his little accomplishments with a deep, reassured satisfaction that was only faintly displayed in his calm smile.

There was the evening when Logan shot his first winning basket, his face glowing with exertion and pure, innocent triumph that was so different from the grim satisfaction of a successful Eyes Only case.

Seated among the cheering mass of family and neighborhood spectators, Bling watched him surrounded by the other team members, celebrating their victory with shoulder-slaps and high fives as their opponents came closer for a second wave of grudging congratulations.

It was that evening that Logan finally gave in to his teammates urging him to join them for an after-game beer and some guy talk, eventually allowing himself to kick back for more than just the short hours of physical exercise.

Then there were the little, everyday things that would have gone unnoticed by someone not around as much as Bling … how Logan gradually reorganized his apartment to his needs in a way that went beyond those most necessary changes Bling had initiated, how he fell into a new, acceptably comfortable routine that allowed him to pass day after day without thinking too much about the past…

And there was the first time Logan cooked dinner for Max. Not just preparing a sandwich when she came back from a mission, or feeding her with leftovers when she sacrificed her lunch hour memorizing building plans for the night's break-in, just asking her over for no other reason than Max herself. No villains to be stopped, no orphans to be rescued, merely an evening together with its single purpose to relax from being Eyes Only and his genetically enhanced side kick.

It wasn't like Bling had been told any of this freely. As always, it had been more a matter of calm observation and tactical questioning that confirmed his feeling that something was going on when he found Logan in the kitchen, wearing a smug little smile that was a bit too bright for the rather unpleasant task of disemboweling a chicken.

Putting down the new set of dumbbells he'd found on the market, Bling noticed that the counter was covered with fresh bundles of spices, creamy-white cotton napkins and matching placemats, all seeming a bit over the top for just one person.

He was sure that something was going on when Logan fixed him with a short, suspiciously disinterested glance from the corner of his eye. Nodding to the upper cupboard where the less frequently used items were stowed, he addressed Bling with an as yet unvoiced request, his tone of overly casual. "Could you please get down two of those wine glasses in there? And there should be silver candlesticks, too."

Bling hid his pleased grin at the novel combination of wine and candles by turning his back to Logan, but not before confirming with a quick glance at the bottle that Logan finally seemed to have found an opportunity to take advantage of his well-filled wine rack.

Reaching into the cabinet for the requested items, Bling started the prodding, for the moment ignoring Logan's wordless attempt of distracting him with a bowl of homemade mousse au chocolat. "Anything special today? Is Max coming over for that break in you planned for the major's office?"

The only answer was an unintelligible grunt, Logan using the necessary concentration on his knife, chopping at an impressive speed, as a handy excuse for not answering.

Not impressed by Logan's taciturnity, Bling continued, his even voice not yet giving away that he'd figured out the reason for all the effort long before. "You know, I don't have any plans for the evening… I could stay as a backup if you want me to."

Logan's only reply was a short, polite "No, thanks", eyes not even leaving his work, as if he hoped that simple ignoring Bling would stop the nosy questioning.

Of course Bling wasn't that easily distracted. Giving his friend a quick, scrutinizing look, he decided that a bit more teasing was safe. Over the last months he had learned to read Logan, to see the the signs that preceded annoyed snapping or that state of lost melancholy when he'd accidentally touched a forbidden topic.

Now, however, there was none of it, just fidgeting nervousness interfering with the self-assured calm usually characterizing Logan in the kitchen.

So Bling tried once more, now lending his voice the tiniest trace of cool amusement. "Are you sure you won't need me?"

With an exaggerated sigh Logan gave in, putting down the knife to give Bling a long-suffering look, conveying that he knew his trainer's game perfectly well. "No, thanks, Bling, really won't be necessary. Unless I cut off a finger because someone", his look became even more pointed, "keeps distracting me, I'll just have a quiet evening at home and…" A short pause, then the crucial point came out, a flicker of insecurity replacing the grouchiness, "invite Max for dinner…You know, as a way to thank her for all her help…"

As he trailed off, Logan's tone changed from mild petulance into self-conscious mumbling, as if suddenly questioning his sanity for doing something as unmistakably non-work, even as potentially flirtatious as a candle light dinner. And even though moments earlier he had wished Bling to be anywhere but here, now he watched his trainer's face as if it could tell him what Max would think of such an offer.

Bling's pleased grin was gentle enough not to increase Logan's already acute awkwardness, but still gave him the needed confirmation. "About time. Girl might have started to think that you only keep her around as a handy tool for your save the world plans."

With a short shrug of indignation, Logan went back to his work, his pondering frown showing clearly that with his own obsession in denying and defining the exact extent of his growing affection, he'd been too preoccupied to think about Max's perspective.

Once more observing observed the calming effect cooking had on Logan, Bling suppressed a wistful smile at the thought that maybe he just should have taken Logan down to the hospital's kitchen in those early, difficult days when the whole world had seemed bleak and hopeless.

Today though, his usually peaceful kitchen-demeanor was rattled by an unusual edginess, displayed a bit more openly now that his plans were in the open. It all confirmed Bling's suspicion that something must have happened to dare Logan, who had been blind to the nurses' flirtations in hospital, into steering his work-only relationship with Max onto another level.

Maybe, Bling pondered as he finally dipped his spoon into the sof chocolate cream, all this was the result of that evening last week.

As he made his way up to Logan for a late training session, he encountered Max just coming out of the Penthouse, a thick envelope in her hand and a pleased, thoughtful smile on her face. Now curious, Bling went in to find Logan wearing the same expression, which evened out only slightly at seeing his trainer.

In a voice of uncharacteristic adventurousness Logan told him about the day's events, how in only a few weeks he'd found the woman from Max's past for whom she'd searched for years, how Max had ignored his warnings in bold stubbornness, the narrow escape accomplished with his help…

As concerned as Bling still was to know that Lydecker had been so close, as relieved as he'd been to hear that Max was well, he couldn't help but think that this mission had been exactly what Logan needed. Ever since restarting Eyes Only, he had restricted himself to desk work, so far lacking the self-confidence and opportunity to test how far a wheelchair and street investigations were compatible. All his work had been done in abstract anonymity, Eyes Only's mask protecting him from his enemies, but also from the thanks of those whom he'd helped. Now he had Max's gratitude, her mere presence a perpetual reminder of his success.

The triumph of having tricked a well-organized unit of soldiers without even leaving his office, the fact that it had been his abilities, equipment and quick thinking that had saved Max and Hannah, had been enough to give Logan a boost of confidence that no pep-talk could have ever achieved. The lingering high of the mission had brought the realization that he could help Max like nobody else could, could fool her pursuers and help her find her siblings.

With the last spoonful of chocolate Bling returned his attention to his surroundings which still looked like the textbook preparations of an elaborate dinner scene. It seemed that the idea of asking Max over, just like that, had been going around in Logan's head for some time, finally realized in the aftermath of his success.

Declining Logan's offer for another round of mousse, Bling stood up to go, still faintly smirking with the knowledge that, today, he wasn't needed around here.

xxxxxxx To be continued xxxxxxxx