DISCLAIMER: All participants affectionately borrowed from the TV world of DA. No profit made.

THANKS ONCE MORE to those of you reading. Please stop by to review–it's the only way I'll know if I've made any sense.

INTERSTATE 5, 8:11 P.M.

Tires hummed on wet pavement as the now-presentable Aztek rolled along the highway toward the Pier and the waiting Social Event, streetlights shining against the puddles and the drops on the windshield, shifting the light inside the passenger compartment.

Despite his smiles and charm for Daphne, Logan felt his dread growing for the evening, given the circumstances: he knew what he'd be facing and how black his mood was after his last foray into this crowd. This time he wasn't alone, but with a comfortable old friend who shouldn't really be a friend, given their parting–but given their respective reasons, a friend willing to come along and help him fit back into the world he'd happily left behind some years before. Daphne had claimed this was for her own benefit, too, but he felt guilty for not being as candid with her as he might. He knew the path his performance might take, and she needed to know as well, so that she could distance herself, if she chose...he broke several moments of silence with his thoughts.

"Daphne...to be fair, to you..." he began. "I need these people to think that I can pick up where Jonas left off, be Jonas, for the company, just as cold and calculating and mercenary as he was," Logan's voice was steady...but tired, heavy, she thought. "And if your plan is that everyone think we're together, that's fine...but you need to know just who it is you're with, tonight."

Daphne glanced to the familiar features, silhouetted against the streetlights outside his window, and let her grin twist wryly with her encouragement. "Well, then, neither of us will be who we claim to be. Seems fair." she offered. "Besides, you know this crowd–Jonas was one of them, and his behavior common. As sad as it may be, if they believe you're that man, they'll just think you've come back to the fold as a proper Cale, and that our match is ordained. Maybe it would be even better for me that way."

Logan met her eyes briefly, taking his off the road, evaluating to see if she was being candid in this, and his moment's assessment convinced him she was indeed as much of an outsider as he, under false pretenses as was he, engaging the enemy of their childhood now for their adult gains. He relaxed, slightly, to know he had an ally. This ally would raise the comfort factor for his charade, indeed: she was a part of this society and was recognizable to most, accepted, as much as anyone was "accepted" by this crowd, already in and not questioned as authentic...

"I don't think you realize how helpful it is that you want to do this" he laughed dryly. "I've been out of the loop, long enough–and I never thought that would be a liability..."

"You should find a way to dabble from the sidelines, as I did" she smiled easily. He noted that her smile, her very demeanor, was actually far more comfortable and centered than it had been, back in college. Well, maybe finally discovering who you are–and being with an old friend who knows your secret before you wear it for the world–would go a long way to that ease, Logan reflected. Despite all else going on at the moment, Logan felt a small brush of satisfaction that he might have made things a little easier for her, even for an evening. "One of the crowd, but now working and soliciting their business... it gives Margo and her friends a chance to say that they have a Hamilton at their bidding, to embarrass my family that they have a 'working' daughter, to order me around as they do their kitchen staff..."

Logan chuckled, feeling a comfort with Daphne that he hadn't felt since it all had begun, what, only the week before? "That doesn't bother you?"

"No," she laughed, genuinely. "It just makes more clear to me what kind of people they are. And, each time one of them buys one of my pieces, it makes it that much more important for one of their crowd to follow suit, and get something for their homes or someone's office...which in turn has led to me getting calls from other people, even 'normal' folks who've seen one of my paintings in one of those places. Truth is, Logan, it's been the best thing yet for my career–their shallow, vicious natures." Again Daphne laughed, enjoying the irony. "So, while I don't think I've become too obsequious–I revel in it."

He finally shook his head, the irony still leaving a bitter taste. "Well, I'm delighted to hear that finally, their complete lack of decency has paid off, at least for someone." He paused, then asked, "If you're doing that well–why are you still hiding? Why was it important to you, to come with me tonight?"

Her smile softened a bit, and she admitted, "Well, it's still a little early to be too candid about my... interests...but I think I'm selling well enough that it's not so important anymore, that they think I'm straight." She glanced over at him to admit, "Honestly? It was more that I knew I was just the date you needed, tonight–whatever it is that has you back into things..." When he looked to her, his automatic response honed to be suspicious, she urged, "Look, I really don't need to know more than that you're trying to help Bennett salvage the company–that in itself is noble enough to face this crowd again, after you've successfully escaped. But you have something else going on..." She considered him, " and you need a way to get back in with the old gang. If I thought you were wanting back in to stay, and be like them, I wouldn't have suggested this." She kept her eyes on him, knowing she was right, but appreciating the chance to confirm, even so. "But I think I know you better than that. And...I owe you...for not being candid with you, all those years ago..."

This time his glance softened as he shook his head, "You weren't ready" he said. "You don't owe me anything for that."

"Well. Maybe not. But if I can lend a hand now..." She was quiet for a moment, and tried, her curiosity nudging her, "I know you'd rather have Max along, than me. At least if you were attending just to be attending..." She glanced over to see his expression veil slightly. He didn't respond right away so she didn't either, knowing he'd blink first. He did.

"Well, as you observed, it's not just that–I have some business contacts to develop," he thought his answer was fairly smooth, "and Max doesn't really pass as being one of this crowd."

"No, she doesn't" she agreed, eyebrows curving up that he'd been able to see it–and was surprised that Logan immediately shot her a look full of question and protective defensiveness. "What? You just said..." She looked at him quizzically, then understanding crossed her face, "Logan, you don't think she fooled anyone, at Bennett's wedding...?" He stared ahead at the road, not speaking, and she added, wryly, "except maybe Margo...but then, Jonas didn't marry her for her cleverness, did he?"

Logan had gotten quiet. Daphne, worried that she'd offended him–his adoration of Max really was taking him over, she saw...regrouped to explain, gently, "Logan, Max is lovely– she seems to be bright, and she's certainly beautiful. And I've seen how she looks at you. And as for you, when she's around, no one else is in the room for you, no matter how hard you were trying at the wedding to look like you were giving me your full attention..." Daphne mused again and added, almost sadly, "even when you thought you wanted to marry me, you never looked at me that way. I'm happy for you both and I hope you're smart enough to know when you have something good, and grab it with both hands. But my darling Logan," she sighed, patiently, "Max did not grow up like we did, in Greenwich or anywhere –you know the signs as well as I do, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it's hard enough to shake off the signs of 'breeding' even when you know what they are–let alone, really pass for the genuine article, without spending a lot of time with the blue bloods." She shook her head. "Max may be many things, but she clearly isn't 'one of us.' Maybe not all of you men will see it, but many will, no matter how beautiful she is. And all the women had her pegged from the moment she walked in–they have a nose for those things"

He glanced at her, quickly, still surprised, despite his affecting awareness of their games. He managed, "Someone said something..."

"Yeah–they have a mouth for those things, too..." She didn't want to have to tell him all of it–the too-fascinated discussion about his injuries and what he could–and probably couldn't–do anymore, about just who this Max was–and who she thought she was, about how she and Logan must have hooked up and their certainty she was in it only for Logan's money, the pity factor, or (the more likely candidate for most) both–and how all of the discussion was far more animated, far more vicious, because Max was far more attractive than most of them...and Logan far more attractive than most of their dates.

"Well, then," Logan had raised his chin, his jaw tight, his smile taut. "I guess they'll be pleased to see that we're together, after all."

"Just hang on to the idea that Max will be spared all this," Daphne tried, peering over at the man who, in another life, might now be her husband. She knew she was pulled in another direction, but if it had been that she were looking for a husband, she couldn't have found a better one than Logan Cale. "And just think what we'll be gaining, tonight." Her smile curled up in mischief. "I for one plan to enjoy their certainty that 'blood will tell.'"

Logan looked back to his new partner in crime, beginning to understand that all this time, he really wasn't alone in his rejection of all their "advantages." Relaxing a little, he turned back to the road with a bit of a smile. "I knew there was some reason I fell for you, all those years ago."

"You have a thing for anarchists." She dared.

"That I do." His smile was finally an honest one. "I'm glad you do, too."

THE PIER, 9:57 P.M.

From his arrival forty minutes earlier, Bennett had been keeping a worried eye on his cousin. Ever since the funeral, he'd thought Logan had seemed even more rattled by Jonas' death and the company's spiraling misfortunes than he himself had. At first he felt guilty about it, but then justified it all by reminding himself that it was just Logan's way, to agonize over each little thing. When he next realized that Logan was mourning not only what events were doing to the Cales, but to every single employee and their families, he relaxed into the confirmation that it was just Logan's social conscience plaguing him again. The small, additional guilt that added, that his cousin was so much more altruistic than he, was assuaged by a solemn internal promise to be more like his cousin, and a genuine enthusiasm that Logan wanted come back to CI, to help. All in all, it felt right, and good, and Bennett had believed that the company would be reborn into what it should have been, had Jonas and his partners not gotten so greedy...

But the past week at CI had Logan looking haggard; the security logs showed that he arrived early and stayed long into the night. He spent long hours in R & D with the skeleton crew still there, and with what files and records were left to them, filed away on hard copy. Logan had maintenance cart boxes and boxes of remaining and overlooked records to his office and spent even longer stretches just searching through, as if looking for the answers to unknown questions...

Unknown to Bennett, at least; he had no clue what Logan was seeking. It was more than just the company, it had to be. But in all truth Logan had always intimidated him, just a little–not in the way his father had, but with his intelligence, his driven passion for righting wrongs–and Bennett felt a bit cowed by it all. He stubbornly trusted in Logan's nobility and affection for him, that he would do no ill, and would tell him when something was up. He wanted with all his heart to trust him...

But it didn't assuage his worry. And what he saw this evening didn't help him any: that Logan would come to one of these "must attend" functions was stunning, for a start. But there he was, working the crowd, a whiskey–neat, unlike Logan–in hand, as if he were one of the Old Boys himself. Upon seeing Logan, Bennett immediately began searching the crowd to find Max, hoping to send Marianne over to say hello, maybe make things a bit more comfortable for her. Bennett had such high hopes for Logan, having seen how he looked at her...and how she looked at him. Hell, how she looked, period...

After a long enough time, and still no Max, Bennett began thinking Logan was alone. Maybe he didn't want to put her through it, he'd reasoned; that sounded like Logan. But when Daphne Hamilton came up to Logan, her smile for him and extended hand gathered in by his cousin, with affection, Bennett felt as if everything he'd ever thought he'd known about Logan Cale was wrong. This was all wrong. No matter what happened with the company, or his own assets, or his future...this all was wrong...

Most of the evening thus far, Logan had been either engaged by those who hadn't seen him at such events in years, and so were drawn in curiosity to learn why he was back, or had been absorbed by the very attractive and very attentive Daphne. But finally, for the moment, his cousin was alone–and, with another gulp of his own whiskey to fortify him, Bennett went to see his new vice-president...

"Hey, Logan." He tried a smile. Logan looked up and beamed for his cousin.

"Bennett, I didn't know you were coming," Logan lied. "Where's Marianne?"

"Oh–over with the crowd at the piano; they're debating schools or something." Bennett shrugged away the question. "Did I...see right? You're with Daphne?"

"I guess you did" Logan answered expansively. "She looks great, don't you think?"

"Yes, but..." Bennett frowned, finding the going difficult with his cousin clearly under the influence of the whiskey he was knocking back. At the direct, insistent stare, daring him to go on, Bennett managed, "I'm just surprised...I mean, at the wedding...you and Max..."

"We what?" Logan snorted softly. " Max wasn't around very much, as I recall. I actually spent more time with Daphne... but it was your reception, you were probably too busy..."

Bennett shook his head, "No, I saw you two. You seemed so good together..."

Logan's face darkened; his eyes darted away from his cousin's in what appeared to be an emotional reaction. "We're not like that...we never were," he bit the words, low.

Bennett heard the bravery of the whiskey speaking for him. "I don't believe you. I saw you both."

Logan's eyes snapped back up to Bennett's in a painful mix of anger and impossibility. "You couldn't have–we were never like that," he insisted. "Look at all this–this isn't Max. We're Cales. We have..." Logan's words wavered, died on his lips. He drew a breath, and seemed to pull himself together. With another moment, and a draw on the whiskey, he laughed, humorlessly, and put down his drink. "If you'll excuse me, I have a date I'm ignoring. I'll see you Monday, Bennett."

And as Logan moved away, he left an even more stunned–and even more worried–cousin in his wake...

THE PIER, 10:46 P.M.

"I don't believe I've gotten to express my sympathies for the loss of your father, Bennett."

Bennett had been counting the minutes to 11:00, the time he and Marianne agreed that they would have been there long enough to be proper, each actually preferring to be anywhere but at the awkward function. Bennett was sick with what he saw from Logan, and wanted desperately to tell Marianne, at least to get it off his chest, even if she didn't know Logan from Adam and probably had no wisdom to offer. Only fifteen minutes to go..

He turned at the unfamiliar voice. The woman was ice–smooth, cold, hard. "I had an opportunity to work with him over the past weeks. He was a man of vision."

Bennett blinked, thinking he might have seen her once before, but not placing her. "Thank you, miss...?"

"Elizabeth Renfro. Doctor Elizabeth Renfro..." The emphasis was as smooth as she, quiet, but insistent. "We only recently completed a project with your company, just before Jonas'– unexpected–death. I would hope that, as you're attempting to keep the company afloat, we might continue to do business."

Bennett offered an uncomfortable smile, wishing Logan–the real Logan–were with him to get a read on this Dr. Renfro, who was just too polished and practiced for his comfort. But he was on his own, and he would manage... "Thank you, Dr. Renfro." He drew up a bit straighter. "I appreciate your trust in Cale Industries. We have some restrictions as to what we can and can't do, according to our lawyers, as we wait to see if we can continue...in the circumstances." He wondered if she knew that the company had been stripped by the government, and if she did, that they were fighting to keep it operational. He considered her words...and her demeanor...and suspected she knew as much as he did...

"So, tell me" she purred, stepping slightly closer, causing him an unconscious urge to take a step back in response. "You have a new partner, your cousin..."

"Yes, Logan. He's come back to the company, as we get things back on line."

"I hear he was a journalist, rather an unpopular one with the companies he'd reported as violators of employment regs or environmental laws."

"He did a few stories about polluters, and about exploitation of undocumented workers–like that one on Tetropin Corp's cover-up of employees' illnesses resulting from chemical exposure in their plants" Bennett stood strong, still proud of what Logan had uncovered in those investigations. "He's not unpopular with companies that are responsible."

"Like...Cale Industries...?" She smiled, eyebrow lifting. "Taking on his own family's company..."

"He was right." Bennett insisted, remembering his impotent attempts to convince his father of the same thing. "Besides, corrections were made, it was a long time ago–and this is still the company his father helped develop." He remembered himself, and reminded himself that this was a former client and, potentially, a continuing customer. "Logan–and I–will make CI the best it can be, Dr. Renfro. We won't allow corners to be cut or regs to be ignored just for a bigger buck–we'll make sure everything is done the right way, for the right reasons. We intend to restore CI's reputation..."

"Besmirched by your father?" She asked, unblinkingly.

Bennett swallowed, drew up a bit more and nodded, "Besmirched by my father, and corrected by us. We would be happy to offer our services again to you, Dr. Renfro, if you want a reputable, respectable company working for you."

"Indeed." She lifted an eyebrow. "I'll have to give that some thought..."

THE PIER, 11:24 P.M.

Logan had gone outside on the wide balcony overlooking the marina, where large, sleek yachts were moored, flaunting their beauty in the face of the Depression, helping those inside pretend there was no Pulse–or maybe more telling–that they were above all the pain and loss it had caused. They really were beautiful, he had to admit–and realized it wouldn't mean anything if they weren't. The evening was cool, damp...but the rain had stopped for the time being. He just needed a few minutes, alone...

He drew a deep breath, battered from his charade of the evening. It was hard to lie to Bennett, no matter the reasons...hard to be acting without knowing Max was there, for him, with him...hard to face so many shallow, callous people ...but he was accomplishing what he needed, for the evening, making contacts, convincing them all that a Cale had returned to the fold. He hoped it wouldn't have to be for long...

The soft sounds of the water were broken by the sharp click of stiletto on decking, and a voice came to him over it all. "Mr. Cale."

And he turned to see the now-familiar face of the woman on the tapes...

Swallowing hard, quickly, he affected a smile, his eyebrows lifted. "Logan. And you are..."

"Elizabeth Renfro." As she extended her hand, Logan saw her dark eyes flash amusement and intelligence as they assessed him. She would not be one to underestimate.

"Ms. Renfro..." Logan smiled slightly, affecting the look he knew well from Jonas and the others now around him: the superiority of money, the assumption that it was all that mattered. "A pleasure."

"Oh, no, the pleasure is mine" the woman purred. "I confess I've been watching you this evening and... when I saw you came out here alone...well, I couldn't resist the moment..."

He would not show it, he could not, but here was the mystery woman, playing coy with him? She must know he was inside CI, he reasoned; she wanted something–and he had no delusions that the woman he'd seen on the security tapes, who ordered the death drones and in all likelihood the several murders he was investigating, would merely flirt for sport with a man she'd spotted at a party. Conscious that he was channeling Jonas now, he took a sip of the well-aged whisky and, eyes never leaving hers, said, "I'm flattered. " He paused, and, with a wry smile, said, "I've been away from all this for a while, so maybe I ought to know...but what brings you to us, Ms. Renfro?"

"Well...it's Dr. Renfro...and I was a business associate of your uncle, before his death." Her voice was as sultry as before, but the chill was there, the calculating business woman taking over.

"So you probably know that Cale Industries is in something of a crisis, at the moment." Logan countered.

"But you're taking over as vice-president" Renfro countered.

"And, I plan to get it past that crisis, and would invite you to bring your business back to us–if you find yourself in the market for our goods..." Logan smiled broadly, all charm.

"I will certainly keep that in mind," Renfro nodded, seemingly pleased at his words. "So it's true, then, you're taking over at CI?"

Logan chuckled, a cold sound. "'Taking over' is a bit strong, but yes, I'm taking an active role in the company–at least until the current problems are settled."

"Your cousin speaks so well of you, your morals and standards." She oozed. "But those 'standards' sometimes are counterproductive in a real business environment, don't you agree? Usually they slow progress, and, in the final analysis, are quite unnecessary. At least in the sort of business Jonas and I used to do." Renfro paused to give him a long, considered look, before lifting her chin in a challenge. "Your cousin tells me you are returning the company to the glory days of Cale Industries, squeaky-clean savior of mankind." She smiled again, viperously. "Or have I misunderstood?"

"My cousin is an innocent." Logan swallowed the last gulp of the whiskey he held, "inoffensive and charming, just what Cale Industries needs as its public face–no one is threatened, and no one suspects we're capable of much." He leveled a calculating eye at the woman, and allowed a small twist at the corner of his mouth. "Certainly he doesn't suspect his cousin, the crusading journalist, of much."

Renfro's eyebrows went up and her own smile broadened. "And just what had you in mind for your company, Mr. Cale, that your cousin doesn't suspect?"

"That could depend on you" Logan leaned back in his chair, well aware that he'd just crossed the line into dangerous territory at lightning speed, maybe even into the depths of Manticore, and he would need all his wits and wiles to not risk everything...most especially Max. He could not let his fears show–and would even raise the stakes with as much speed as she'd brought them up to him. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to learn much of what went on, those last days at CI before Jonas was killed–but I learned enough to believe that you were the one who brought the contract to us, to...update...the hoverdrones...and that you were interested in another sort of project as well...one involving not mechanical, but chemical engineers..." At her look of surprise, he laughed, a charming, rueful look about him now. "I'm not used to being quite so candid, but I suspect I wouldn't be able to fool you too long–and so I will admit that I don't know more than that–but I also suspect that you and I can reach a level of understanding much as you and Jonas did."

"Well, Mr. Cale..."

"Logan." His smile remained, his eyebrow lifting.

"Logan" she agreed, regaining her composure. "I'm not sure that we have any immediate need for your company's services...but I am certainly interested in coming to an understanding..."

He smiled, all charm and confidence. "Where may I call you?"

"I'll call you–when I'm ready," she parried. "I know where to find you now, don't I?" She would keep the upper hand, he saw, as she turned, adding dismissively, "A pleasure, Logan..."

These moments would be the hardest, Logan reflected, doing all he could to sit impassively, to retain the tiny smile he'd worn those last few moments, to avoid telegraphing the competing emotions he felt of dared success, believing he'd convinced Renfro of his intentions, and of dread for what he might have done. Putting himself on anyone's radar, even as himself in seemingly innocuous circumstances, had always invited discovery of Eyes Only. Now...and especially with this woman...he invited discovery of Max as well. And he would do anything to prevent that from happening...

"...Logan..."

The gentle hand on his arm and soft voice broke through thoughts so dark he was lost in them; he blinked, startled, to find his knuckles white around his glass, and a fine prickle of sweat along his brow. Daphne smiled the ever-practiced smile of the socially-adept, adding a soft, airy laugh, but said, her voice low, "Are you alright? That woman looks like the Grim Reaper himself–are you getting in over your head, here?"

Drawing a slow breath to steady himself, he too kept his face 'appropriate' and loosened his grip on the glass, more grateful than ever to have Daphne there, and admitted to her, "I may be...but it's necessary, Daphne, and maybe why I came." He was able then to focus more on her, wondering if she had accomplished her purpose as well. " What about you?" He felt the urge to leave now, to get back home to do something, find some way, to keep Max safely away from anything he'd begun this night– but owed Daphne her time here, for making his charade more believable–even to his own cousin. "Make the rounds?"

She nodded, "I did." Sensing his discomfort, knowing they were a topic of conversation in the vapid crowd itching for new gossip, she offered, "Any time you want to go, Logan, it's fine..."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm done here..."

"I certainly am," he leaned over to leave his empty glass on the railing, and pivoted to face the ballroom doors leading back inside. "Anyone we have to thank?"

"No–long gone." Daphne smiled. "We can make a clean getaway."

"One small comfort" Logan's smile was grim. "After you..."

FOGLE TOWERS, 5:46 A.M.

He had been sitting, staring out the windows for so long that Logan now could see the early colors of sunrise reflected in the mirrored windows of the buildings in his view... It didn't matter how long he sat, or how many different ways he tried to look at things, every equation came down to the same result: he was courting danger by inviting scrutiny, if not by Manticore, then by another government arm just as powerful and just as corrupt. Scrutiny meant attention, and Max was too close to him not to be noticed. His actions that night had just opened season on Max, and there was no way that would not risk her exposure. She was in danger; it was his doing. He needed to make her safe.

Logan knew that Zack was just over the border, too driven to go further, knowing Lydecker had to be so close, here in the area, that Max was here, that Brin had been picked up here and back in Manticore's grip. Set on finding a way to fight back, Zack, who never did approve of Max's staying in Seattle, would be more than happy to get Max away with him, keep her occupied...keep her safe...How better to keep her safe, Logan thought, provide her with Zack's skills to protect her as well as her own...

Logan stared at the phone number he'd been given, unknown to Max, wondering if it was still good...wondering if it was the right thing to do, deceiving Max like this. He sighed, closing his eyes. Of course it was..maybe not the best way, maybe not what either thought they wanted, maybe even unfair, to her, not to let her make her own, informed choices...but right, in the circumstances, no question. He lifted his phone and punched in the number he last had for Zack...

To be continued...