DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed, no profits realized.
A/N: Continuing events from the story, Asylum, from Bling's point of view.
It's been a while, I know. For those of you sticking with this odd little story, thanks for coming back to read – all comments appreciated.
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Asylum:
Book II
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May 17, 2023
Bling didn't believe in coincidences, especially where they concerned a determined Sandra. And so he didn't believe it was a coincidence that she'd steered them toward the end entry of the main tent where the craftsmen set up their wares, where she knew the potters would have not only their cups and bowls and other things for sale, but if any of them were throwing today, would have a wheel there too, letting the customers watch as shapeless lumps of cold grey clay were gently coaxed into graceful, curving shapes.
Sandra led the group in, already talking with Logan – or, Bling reminded himself, Robert – about the farmer from whom she brought fresh herbs, both in small bunches for cooking that week and potted, for her windowsill. Bling dropped back a step to observe them all, but was most curious now about Max. Something about the way she had examined the bowl during breakfast had touched him, as it clearly had the others, but made him curious enough to see if more would come of it.
He watched, unobtrusively, as Max's eyes took in the scene before her and wasn't disappointed. Almost immediately, her gaze fell on the first rack of pottery, three shelves of serving pieces in blues and greens, some heavy and rustic-looking, some rounded and comforting, and for a moment, her eyes lit up in fascination.
It was short lived, however; just as Logan began to look back at her, Max seemed to shake off her intrigue and smiled for him. "They've got a lot of pottery here," he said to her, offering, "if you see some things you like, we could always mail back anything that was too big to take."
Her smile broadened gently at his offer, and she nodded, "that's a good idea." In the next moment, as the couple held each other's eyes, she even seemed to relax again a little to add, "thanks."
Logan grinned with her words, and lifted an eyebrow, "I'll let you figure out how I can mail back a few pots of herbs with the pottery," he tipped his head toward the farther tables. "Why don't you stay here and look at what they have – I can get started on the food. I suspect I could spend a lot more time looking down there than you would."
She might have blushed a little, or maybe Bling imagined it – but there was no mistaking her emotions when she leaned toward him quickly to offer a brief kiss, pulling away again to nod again, a glow in her eyes. "I'll know where to find you."
Logan turned to move on up the aisle, further into the tent, and Sandra followed along, telling him about the families whose wares were set up along their path. Bling stepped across the aisle to talk to a couple of the regulars there, not only to say hello but to see if they knew who was expected at the market that day, in the hope that one of the potters might be coming. He spoke with them for several minutes, not far from where Max lingered amid the freestanding wooden shelves lined with pottery, never completely losing sight of her. As he watched her inconspicuously he became more intrigued by the moment.
The Max he watched was unguarded, her emotions filtering though again. Clearly she didn't expect trouble here or she wouldn't have left Logan's side, even with Bling nearby and with his assurances of the town's peacefulness, even to catch a few moments among these items which so fascinated her. Yet her attention was pulled in two directions: as she lifted first one piece, then another, taken by their beauty, she never allowed more than a few moments pass without looking back up to watch Logan, her dark eyes quiet and more relaxed than they'd been, but carrying a troubled mix of concern, worry – and love – for him.
Bling's own concern prickled at what he saw. Max being so drawn to pottery was unusual enough. Max looking out for Logan, getting his back, and showing the soft spot she had for him wasn't anything new. But this, the sense he had that she was worried for him in general, rather than from any specific source, was different than he'd seen in her before and in turn raised his radar for Logan's safety and well-being, along with a bit of guilt for having left Eyes Only to follow Sandra out to Indiana.
Enough that he decided to press it all now, while both Logan and Sandra were occupied elsewhere. Ambling over to where Max stood, cradling a rounded blue coffee mug in her hands, the shape and coloring matching that of the bowl she'd so admired that morning, Bling interrupted her thoughts to offer, "the folks over there think John Leatherman will be here later this morning, so you might have a chance to watch him make some things just like these."
Her smile was quick and she nodded, seeming to be drawn back to earth slightly at his words. "I know lots of things are homemade now that weren't, back in the day, but I always thought 'homemade' meant something you patched together because you couldn't afford the real thing. But these..." she glanced back at the rows of colorful pottery, "they're made by hand, one by one, like homemade, but ... it's as if they make them because they want to, not because they have to."
So that's it, at least partly? Face to face with art for art's sake, even in the guise of a practical little item as common as a coffee mug...
"An old tradition, I think, Max; lots of cultures from way, way back created pottery and earthenware and sometimes, the local artists would turn out versions that were decorative or in unusual shapes – some even carried pictographs of the tribe's history, like an important battle."
"But some were just to be pretty..." she said softly, her eyes taking in the detail, unable to resist the smooth lines, touching the heavy rim of a short, squat pitcher. "Like this. Most people would just keep their milk in the carton. It's functional ... adequate." She smiled a little. "But this ..."
"Art for art's sake..." he repeated aloud now.
"Not high on Manticore's list," she added wryly, but softer than she would have before, less cocky, more wistful. With her words, though, she glanced back toward Logan, another protective glance, watching out for him. It was just the opening Bling needed.
"I'm glad you two could come out," he said, gently, tracking Max's glance over to Logan as he and Sandra chatted easily with the woman at a table down the way, discussing the foods lined up in their sparkling glass jars behind her. They both saw Logan's appreciative gaze as he admired the jars of bright red tomatoes and sunny peaches preserved from last summer's crop. "I suspect Seattle is a pretty rough place to be for Logan, right now," Bling added, quietly.
"He already looks so much better..." she said, her soft voice almost wistful.
"So do you."
At his words, Max's eyes swung back to his and she shrugged, her tone more 'Max' again, "I'm fine. Always fine, Bling..."
"C'mon, Max, you know I buy that even less than Logan does." He saw her challenge his words, silently, and he pressed, "physically, you may be healthier than any of us, and better able to withstand all the change and battle stress any situation will throw at you. But you worry about your family, your friends ... him..." Bling nodded toward Logan, watching him again briefly as he handed several bills to the woman at the table, who loaded the colorful jars into a cardboard box for them from a stack of them, kept handy for customers. "He changes, you change. He looks happier ... healthier ... like this," Bling turned back to her, "and you look as if the weight of the world has been lifted from you."
She wavered, and with a subtle shift in her expression admitted, in a small voice, "it has." She looked back up at him and admitted, "Bling, you have to know how much Logan misses you." She wavered, still uncomfortable with the newness of expressing her emotions. "But I do, too. I never used to worry about his health, really, when you were there to kick his ass – to watch his ass, too. I got used to knowing that you'd recognize any problems well before they were dangerous..."
Bling frowned. "Has he had some problems?"
"No," she shook her head, but still looked troubled, "but I never know if he's telling me everything ... if I might be missing some signs or symptoms ... or if I'd know what to do if something suddenly went wrong..."
Bling's soft smile was encouraging. "Max, you've had more emergency medical training than most of the population. You'd know what to do..."
"But it's all theoretical, Bling, not practical." She turned to him, her expression revealing her concern. "I've never seen that stuff in the field ... in a person," she amended. "I don't know all the fine points, and..." She hesitated, looking ashamed of her next words. "I'd be okay as a back-up, but a good soldier knows her strengths and her weaknesses. I might be able to cover him from all sorts of external threats, but if his health is compromised..." Her look was distant for the moment as she imagined the worst. "I'm not the best person for the job," she resumed, her tone more matter of fact as she did. "You're a better primary for Logan, Bling, given the givens. I hate for him that it's all on me now – especially with the way he's been running himself ragged lately."
Bling sighed. He knew without question it wasn't just the medical aspect itself that had Max worried ... it was that it involved the man she loved. He'd lost sight of the truism he'd learned in his training and had seen in his practice, that expecting a spouse or love interest to also serve as medical aide could take its toll. Although it was far more likely to happen when the person with medical issues needed a great amount of assistance and care, it could always occur. Given how independent Logan was – stubbornly so – and how strong and skilled Max was – it just hadn't occurred to Bling that such a concern would arise with her.
He realized now it should have: trained as a soldier, Max would have all the bodyguard and security matters for Logan well in hand. But those threats she knew well were now coupled with just that little extra concern that Logan, as a paraplegic, had medical needs and warning signs that needed strict watch so there wouldn't be any problems. Max suddenly found herself not only as Logan's sole security force and body guard, but as stand-by medic for a subject who was far too stubborn for his own good ... of course that would take a toll on the woman who in a perfect world shouldn't have to offer him more than her love, affection and support. Instead, Max still battled the continuing nightmare that either his activities, or her background, or his injuries, or all of them, would mean she would lose him and somehow it would have been her fault...
"Max," Bling's deep voice was quiet, soothing, "you know if this were anyone else we were talking about, you'd probably be saying that 'given the givens,' you were more uniquely qualified to be the man's primary than anyone."
"He needs you, Bling, not me."
"And just what do you think he'd say if he heard you say that?"
There was a sad melancholy in her smile. "Since when do either of us listen to him when it's about looking out for him?"
"Well, if you two do decide to move out here, I'll be around, too ... and it will be a lot less likely he'll need either of our medical skills, anyhow."
"What do you really think about that? Look at what happened in Seattle; he almost died because the blood bank there was dry. It's so rural here... can he get the medical attention he needs?"
"I wouldn't have encouraged you two to come out if I didn't think it would be good for him, all around. The next town over has decent-sized hospital, with good facilities and care, and it wouldn't be a much longer a drive than he'd have in Seattle. Another hour over and he can be in Chicago, and everything there is state of the art, as good as you'll find these days." Bling paused and looked at her in concern, knowing what would make the move hardest for her. "But what about you, Max? Are you ready to move so far from your friends – and siblings?"
"I'd go anywhere with him..." she said without hesitation.
"I know. But will you resent having had to leave Seattle? He'd sense it, you know, no matter how much you tried to hide it... And I know he's worried about that."
She glanced back over to Logan, seeing him just at the moment he looked back over to the two of them and grinned, lifting a glass jar full of bright red tomatoes in a market-addict's triumph. Unable to resist, Max's troubled expression broke into a smile for him as she nodded and mimed her approval. As Logan turned back to his shopping, she glanced back up at Bling before turning back to watch the man she loved, as she spoke. "You forget I learned pretty early that there are times you have to leave those you love, because of everyone's safety – theirs, yours..." she laughed softly, not really with humor, but as if the realization was dawning on her now, too. "The only person I've ever just not been able to leave is Logan. I've probably put him in danger by not leaving, but so far, things have worked out," she reflected. "And I've been able to help get his ass out of a tight spot a time or two, so maybe it's worked out okay." She turned to face Bling more fully, and, her words more focused now, said, "No resentment. I don't think I've ever resented leaving anyone, because it had to be done. I'll miss OC and everyone, maybe even Normal, a little. I might sometimes wonder if any of the kids are looking for me there, and might lose the trail if they don't know where else to look. But look at him, Bling..." They both turned back to watch Logan at the next table, admiring little bundles of both dried and freshly cut herbs beside the tiny, windowsill-ready pots of baby herb plants alongside newly sprouting, garden-ready tomato and bean plants. "There's nothing more I want right now than to get him out here, so he can be happy again, like this." Bling saw a glimmer of moisture in her eyes as Max's voice carried her love for Logan and her frustration that things were so hard on him now. "Doesn't he deserve to be happy?"
"More than anyone I know," Bling said softly, "except maybe you."
She looked back up to Bling in momentary uncertainly before her expression shifted, almost letting her hope show before she minimized the concern he showed for her, now, too, and tried to steel her voice. "What I said – once he's good again, it's all I need..."
Bling's brow clouded a little at her words, starting to realize how he'd spent so much time worrying about Logan and how tough things were for him, he'd allowed himself to buy into Max's ever-tough facade, and even though he'd noticed Max's concern he'd not really considered Max...
...oh, damn... he breathed to himself. All this time, have I been as cold as Lydecker and the others who saw Max as a soldier, a warrior – and not a bright, sensitive young woman who is trying to carry the weight of the world without a way to take care of herself? How much did I miss? How much have I wanted her to be as resilient has she pretends to be?
Bling worked to tamp down his reaction to his oversight as he drew a breath. Make it up to her for missing it all this time, he told himself. With a small lift of his eyebrow, he tipped his head a little as he reached out to trace a finger around the rim of the mug Max still held, almost forgotten now. "You need more, Max; everyone needs some time for themselves ... even you."
She looked up to consider him, her thoughts clearly circling on his words, on what she'd learned so young, then sudden broke the gaze, looking away. Her words came quietly, the calm in her voice more heartbreaking than if she'd actually cried. "Not having something you might want is not so bad... but if someone promises it's within your reach... and if you start to believe it might be true..." She looked back toward Logan and shrugged, "and then it's taken away..." Her brown eyes were huge as she looked back to Bling, the pain there still so raw that Bling felt yet another ripple of anger at the government he served, knowing now what they had done to Max and her family.
"Max..." Bling said involuntarily, feeling for her. In the next moment, though, he knew without question that this place, which had offered first Sandra, then him, so much, could be a shelter for both Max and Logan, where they could relax and really get to know each other, away from most of the dangers that had pressed in on each of them since long before they'd met. "Look at this place," he urged, quietly, as certain as he could be now that his new home was as good for his friends as it had been for them. "Worlds removed from Seattle, Max – but right now that sounds as if it might be the best thing for you both."
He watched as she glanced away again suddenly, breaking the connection, pretending to take in the lines and the form of the mug she held, reminded of its presence by Bling's movement. "'Art for art's sake...'" she mused. "Logan first, Bling, whatever he wants. He deserves it."
"Plenty of time for you both here, all the time in the world. I think if you give in and do something just because it makes you happy, the happiness it gives you will be nothing compared to the joy it will give to Logan."
Max looked back up to Bling, wavering, as if afraid to trust his words. "How could that be?" she asked in a whisper.
"That's what love does, Max," he smiled, softly. "Same thing that lets you abandon everything else just to be with Logan, no matter where he is ... same thing that brought you out here, all this way. Maybe it can still be all about yourself when you're in love – but suddenly, what you want, more than anything, is to see your lover smile." He tipped his chin toward the seemingly untroubled man a few yards away, and saw her eyes soften as she saw Logan take a bite of a peach slice, preserved from last summer's crop. "What I see in your face now is what I saw in Logan's, when he watched you looking at that bowl this morning at breakfast."
The dark eyes turned back to his, seeking confirmation that his words could be true, and, seeing their answer, looked back to the man she loved, a smile gradually taking hold of her features. "Look at him – he said he's always been a city kid, and wasn't sure of a place like this was something he could get used to." She laughed softly. "Took him, what, maybe fifteen hours?"
"And half of that was sleeping," Bling grinned.
"Yeah," she murmured, nodding, then looked at the mug in her hands. Tucking it into the crook of her arm, she looked back up at the shelf and, taking only another moment or two, selected first one more, then another pair, until she cradled all four in her arm. "Four of them, for our stay, while we're here. For coffee, on your front porch. For luck," she added, looking back to the therapist, her eyes shining again in hope. "Something to come home to..."
To be continued...
