Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel.

A/N: Many thanks to Shywriter for betaing, suggestions and making me think over my view of Logan.

And of course many thanks for all the reviews:-)

Extra points to those who find the quote from Simon and Garfunkel's "Richard Cory";-)

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Logan's penthouse, 11:30 PM

"You're right"

Slowly Max turned, face controlled, watching him warily from the distance. Her hand lingered on the cool metal of the door handle, still more than ready to leave.

He'd swiveled the chair around to watch her evenly, eyes expressionless. The mask was back in place. "Of course I was thrilled to find out one of the wilder urban myths was true. Call it professional curiosity." His admission came with a shrug, his tone musing but cool, as if explaining why to choose a special wine to go with dinner. "And yes, getting better protection for Lauren and Sophy was another motive for finding you. They trusted me with their very lives, Max, I had to do everything in my power to ensure their safety."

His voice had changed and now had that gripping intensity which reminded her very much of the lecture from months ago about the lost world of vacation-planning in cafés and two thousand dollar wristwatches. He seemed to search for her understanding for his behavior – and, although Max had to admit that his motives were logical, even noble, from a certain point of view, forgiveness was the last thing she could give him at this moment. Her face hardening to cover her growing confusion Max wondered why in the world he told her this. Had he just called her back to confirm her accusations that she was only a means to an end?

Stupid girl… thinking you could be more for him than a handy cat-burglar.

However, before Max found the resolve to turn her death grip on the door handle into the downward movement required to open the door, Logan spoke again. "But there's always been more." A minute smile showed on his face, more a relaxation of his features – but, to Max, it felt like a big victory. This was him, Logan, the man behind the mask and not merely Eyes Only justifying one his operations. "Peter, he knew right away and he teased me about it." That little, almost unperceivable smile took on a wistful note at the memory of his friend who had given his life for the cause of Eyes Only.

Hesitantly, Max released her hold of the door handle and walked back into the living room area where she sat on the edge of his expensive sofa, tentatively. Maybe… just maybe something could come out of this… Logan turned with her; the small gesture a subtle message that, despite his earlier clear wish for undisturbed solitude, he was relieved at her decision to stay.

"I didn't have to lie, Max, in front of the mirror that time, when I said you had the most singularly beautiful face I'd ever seen. The most beautiful face for to the most fascinating person I've ever met." He was looking at her, and yet he wasn't, his glassy gaze going right through her. The smile was still visible as Logan's voice took on an absent, almost dreamlike quality, recalling the happy memories of an irrevocable past.

This little display of emotion showed more openness than she'd seen from him for the whole evening. And it was this change from guarded anger to melancholy that weakened something in Max. It wasn't like the hurt she'd felt about his thoroughly self-involved behavior was gone, or that the distinct feeling that he owed her an apology for treating her like that had disappeared… but they weren't that pressing any more. Instead there was affectionate tenderness for him – and a good deal of hatred for those who'd done this to him.

For a moment, Max averted her face towards the windows, not wanting him to see how, with a simple smile, he could trigger such contradictory sentiments in her. Even less, though, did she want Logan to see how that ever-gnawing feeling of failure at not preventing the shooting had just increased into one of disgusted self-loathing. It's all your fault that he's in the chair at all. Stupid. Selfish…

Inhuman?

It was that last notion that, perhaps, her selfishness was a genetically given trait which bothered Max the most as she sat there gazing out of the windows, absently noting that it had started to rain. How fitting.

After another minute of quiet contemplation Max felt controlled enough to turn back to Logan. She didn't want to break the spell he seemed to be under, only to bring him back into harsh reality – but she needed to. So she took up their conversation where he'd left it, her voice gentle and calm, never revealing how much she hated to destroy his moment of peace. "So tell me, Logan, what was it then that made you stop flirting?"

She was pretty sure she knew the answer, the reason why his easygoing, flirtatious side had disappeared almost completely. It had disappeared but for those rare moments, when, surprisingly, he forgot everything except the 'You woman, I man'-connection and bestowed on her that dangerously flirtatious, dazzling smile that triggered a whole chain-reaction of clichéd responses in Max. But even knowing the reason for this change of behavior she still wanted to hear it from him. Instinctively Max knew that once he told her why he was feeling so unworthy of attention and it was out in the open between them, fighting his issues would be much easier than it was with his usual, subtle hints, which always left her feeling helpless.

But that wasn't going to happen, Max realized with an inward sigh. He wasn't going to elaborate on the reasons why his body had turned from being a well-oiled machine to a source of embarrassment. At her question Logan had flinched, his faraway gaze suddenly focusing on her with an almost hostile expression that made his eyes narrow. Taken aback, Max thought for an instant he would explode again like earlier when she had intruded into his brooding solitude. But then his answer came, cool and controlled, only a defiant petulance in his tone telling her that she'd hit a nerve. "That's pretty much obvious now, isn't it?"

So she had to do it, had to voice all the things which he was afraid to say… afraid herself that he might hate her for it. But she had to… "If you only hint at your injury, and all that comes with it, no Logan, it's not as obvious for me as you seem to think." Annoyed with his lack of cooperation Max wanted set him straight, then forced herself to lend her voice a gentler note, reminding herself how difficult the situation must be for him. "I know your body has changed. What I can't understand is why it changed your..", she stopped, swallowing down the 'feelings' that almost had made the way out of her mouth, "…your attitude towards me. 'We aren't like that.' You said it yourself, remember, Logan, that evening after you rescued me and Hannah."

After that debacle with Eric.

She'd paused, frowning at the reminder of her own failures, then shrugged it off, to come back to the equally complicated yet less personal topic of Logan and his issues. "I thought about it, especially after these past few days, but…honestly I just can't see why that chair came with an on-off switch for your Romeo side." Involuntarily her voice had increased in volume at her uncomprehending exasperation with his inexplicable behavior, then took a begging tone as she remembered that pissing him of wasn't the best way to get an explanation. "So, please Logan, tell me what has changed? Why can't you flirt while in the chair?"

No answer. Embarrassed by her bluntness, Logan simply avoided her gaze by staring down to his lap with a pained expression.

After watching him for another minute, Max too averted her gaze too, suddenly feeling exhausted by all this emotional commotion. With growing tiredness she wondered if maybe she'd gone too far, if this 'make Logan talk'-thing was a bad idea after all… And there was no going back, Max realized with sudden consternation. Things couldn't just go back to 'normal' again, not after Logan's attempt at killing himself… not after her open admission of the attraction between them.

If he tells me to go now, it's over.

The uncomfortable pause in their conversation lengthened and was filled with an almost palpable tension as neither of them knew what to say. One part of Max wanted only to get out of there, had the sole wish to rush out of the penthouse to some place – any place – where the air wasn't so loaded with those unspoken emotions that might erupt any moment. Yet, at the same time, she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions, limbs heavy, anxious that any movement might awake him from his contemplations. And then… would he tell her to go?

Finally, after an almost infinite stretch of time, Logan's voice, calm and distant, broke the silence. "I discovered pretty early that girls considered me attractive. … I never really understood what they found so special about me, and I'm not particularly proud of it… but somehow their attention gave me confidence.

Max's head had jerked up, startled out of her own ponderings. With a great deal of relief she registered that, although still not looking at her, he seemed willing to really talk now. She stayed mute, though, as her insecurity about how to handle the situation only was increased by the topic he'd chosen.

"Maybe… it had something to do with loosing my parents so early." Tone musing, Logan plunged deeper into his past. "I always liked school… Had friends, was good at everything, joined a lot of clubs… but after their death…" He stopped for a short upward glance, as if only now remembering her presence. "My mother died when I was nine, my father two years later… Somehow, losing them made me grow up earlier, gave me a serious air that set me apart from the other kids..." A rueful smirk appeared on Logan's face at the memories of his teenage years in a world that nowadays, after the Pulse, almost seemed unreal. "Thing is, some years later this seriousness… it seemed to be a magnet to girls."

Max only nodded not wanting to disturb his trance-like state.

"I always had a bunch of girls swarming around me. Doesn't mean I didn't have my share of broken hearts…", he frowned, "but this was one part of my life where I didn't have to constantly fight for attention.

"Bet your being an extraordinarily handsome guy had nothing do with it." Her reply had come unthinking, together with an affectionate smile at the picture of a lankier and younger version of Logan. And, somehow, it seemed okay to comment on his memories of a faraway youth. In response, Logan's features lightened up for quick, boyish smile, contrite yet pleased. Apparently he had no problem at being complimented about his good looks if it referred only to the time before the shooting. His illogical reaction, the inconsistency of his sense of attractiveness, provoked an irrational, itching desire in Max to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into his stubborn head.

The smile then disappeared in a frown as Logan remembered his former self: rich playboy Cale who had everything a man could want. A person whom Max had barely known – and for whom, despite all her attraction, she hadn't found much liking.

"I know it's shallow… but I welcomed this confirmation from the female side, when my family, or what was left of it…" He hesitated, just for a second, but in this short time-span there it was again, that sadness appearing every time he mentioned the loss of his parents, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "… when Jonas and Margo always belittled me, no matter how good my grades were, how hard I tried to please them. Maybe… that's why I started Eyes Only. Playing superhero, get the attention and gratification I couldn't get in my real life." A short, humorless snort, then he fixated her eyes with an unrelenting stare to add a cynical. "You see, Max? I'm nothing but selfish rich brat."

Max opened her mouth to contradict him, as the idea of the altruistic Logan accusing himself of selfishness sounded almost ridiculous to her. However, interrupting him now would be wrong. She needed to let him finish what she had started. So, keeping up their eye contact, her only reaction was a tiny nod to encourage him to go on.

Logan sighed, closing his eyes for an instant. When he opened them again there was no sarcasm left, only sadness… and disapproving shame for the person he'd become. "And now, look at me, what am I worth like this? I'm nothing now. I can see it every time I go out in the faces of those around. 'He's just some broken guy' or 'Keep away from that cripple, kid, maybe he's contagious'." He wavered, taking a deep breath to calm down. "See, I'm… I'm used to Uncle Jonas looking at me like I'm not worth the bother. Okay, fine, I can live with that... but… to see that look everywhere I go, that's just…"

He'd managed to look at her all the while until then, although it seemed like the one thing he wished for right now was to vanish in thin air. But meeting her eyes during this open display of emotions was too much… Or, maybe…Max's attempt to show her acceptance wasn't enough… Whatever it was, Logan eyes were once more directed to the safe territory of his windows. His withdrawal left Max with a disturbing feeling of helplessness and failure.

Viciously gripping the wheels of his chair as if it was an evil to be destroyed, Logan continued to state the facts of his life, his voice strangled by the attempt to stay in control of his emotions. "And women… women either look away when they see me… or they treat me like an old man, an invalid."

While he rushed on, not pausing a beat to steer their conversation away from this highly intimate topic, Max pondered how much good it would do to just rush over and assure him of his attractiveness in every way she knew…

"My family, except for Bennett, is disgusted with me. For some reason they think the shooting was my own stupid fault, just like everything else was my own stupid fault, for my whole entire life. And they're right. Had I planned it all properly, all this wouldn't have happened. Sophie wouldn't have had to go through that nightmare, Peter would still be alive, and I…", a frustrated wave to his lower half, "…I could achieve so much more than now, half-dead like this." His raised hand was balled into a fist and then lowered in abrupt downward movement as if he was going to smash it down forcefully onto his thigh. However, as if reminding himself that he didn't scream or rage, instead his hand was opened in a helpless gesture and carefully placed onto his wheel. Then, with a shaky breath and eyes still focused on his lap, he finally let her in on how it was like to be Logan Cale. "I'm… I'm a big, ugly failure, Max."

You are everything but.

But, instead of letting him hear the first thing that had come to her mind at his crazy self-incrimination, Max just sat there, confused and speechless at how complex his insecurities were. Of course she knew that his family considered him their black sheep, and had seen how they used every opportunity to make him feel inferior… but still, the vehemence of his self-hatred surprised Max. For her, he indeed was some kind of crazy superhero. True, his motives were still hard to grasp for someone who'd been raised not to give a damn about the weak, and his mixed up priorities were a constant source of annoyance… yet for Max, there had never been a question that his driven determination, his unrelenting endurance in dedicating his life to others deserved her genuine admiration. She admired him for what he did – and yet, in her egocentric role of 'I don't care for anybody'-Max, she'd failed to show Logan exactly that.

She'd never told him that for Sketchy, Eyes Only was right up there with Superman.

Suddenly aware that she'd been quiet for too long, Max responded, in a voice that was full of stern chiding and mild affection. "You are many things, Logan… many things to me…" The last was only a whisper, barely audible, but it gave Max a disconcerting feeling of vulnerable exposedness. "But in no way are you a 'failure'". It was the most honest answer she could come up with – but what could her words now possibly mean, standing against months of pretended indifference towards his work – towards him?

He looked over to her, with the same sad, unbelieving expression that she would have received had she told him that walking on water was possible if only he'd try hard enough. He wanted to believe her – but he couldn't.

Max didn't know what else she could do. As she tipped her head down in order to avoid Logan's intense, melancholic look – a look she couldn't stand any longer – a grim, cynical smile showed on her face at the irony of the situation. She knew dozens of ways to kill somebody, but stopping a single person from killing himself was beyond her.

Blingshould be here with him, not me… someone who knows how to be comforting. She considered calling the therapist for an instant, but then dismissed that option as she realized that, by forcing him to talk, she had taken on a responsibility.

After a moment that seemed too long, as, with every fading second, Logan drifted further away from her and deeper into that gloomy brooding, her practical side kicked in, deciding that she could only tackle one thing at a time. "But… Logan, you still are attractive and sexy and desirable and every other term in that category. Why can't you see that? Even Cindy says so!" Her tone had gotten a pleading quality, mirroring Max's acute awareness about how important it was to reach him now that he finally had opened up. This was her one chance. If she failed now… she didn't know what would be then…

"Max …don't" There was so much in these two words: Genuine gratitude for her attempts at making him feel better; the deep conviction that, while paralyzed, he couldn't be a whole, worthy person… and, more hidden, the wistful air of someone, who with all his heart wished to have something that was completely and painfully out of reach.

Seemingly untroubled by his answer she observed him, never revealing that her calm, self-assured façade wasn't far from cracking.

What is it Logan? Wishing to be desirable to women? Or…to me?

The thought distracted her for an instant. It was yet another disturbing reminder that she was in way too deep with Logan Cale. He was the one and only human being whom she considered her equal, he with all his wit and intelligence, his unlimited concern and all the other contradictions and character traits that made him so special. He was the one person who over time had stirred feelings in her that, in their intensity, were paralleled only by those she harbored for her siblings. No way would she escape his rejection unscathed. And there'd been nothing that told her he wouldn't eventually decide to reject her. He still hadn't revealed how much emotional attachment this 'more' included. What if he got over his issues only to see that there were other – normal – women out there, only too willing to start a romance with one of Seattle's finest?

However, if Logan's life was at stake, what did the question of their relationship matter? Again Max put all selfish motives aside, reminding herself that, for once, she needed to provide the assuring stability to him that he normally showed towards her. She was well aware that nothing she might say could change his thoroughly messed up image of himself. Most probably everything she told him about being the same person, chair or no chair, would only scratch the surface and wouldn't have much impact on years of indoctrination – but she needed to try anyway. What else was she to do?

Another moment of silence passed as she roamed her mind for the right words. Then, her voice conveying every bit of understanding she could muster, Max once more reached out for him. "Logan… I won't deny that some people only see you as some guy in a wheelchair now, that they look down at you." He flinched, unable to fully hide the burning shame at hearing the bleak truth out of her mouth. Max sighed inwardly, hurting for him and once more cursing Bruno Anselmo. "I noticed those stares, too, Logan, and it must be so hard to deal with."

She too had registered the curious, pitying ogling that was cast into his direction – and, in silent fury, had suppressed the overwhelming wish to smack some sense in every single person who dared to judge Logan Cale, the most caring person she'd ever met, solely by his means of transportation. For a second, she considered to just let the topic drop as he avoided her gaze, eyes almost shut in his embarrassment over her witnessing the reason why, these days, he preferred the private safety of his penthouse. Maybe it was better spare him the pain that her words so obviously caused… However, telling him that she'd observed all the whack reactions – and didn't share his embarrassment – was the only way to show him that, for her, all this didn't matter.

Unsure Logan would hear her at all, Max continued, hoping he trusted her enough to see the world through her eyes. "But don't tell me you haven't seen the other kind of stares, too, those admiring females trying to get your attention. How in the world could you misinterpret those?"

Unintentionally the last had come out with a good deal of exasperation. Max always had been acutely aware of every adoring glance Logan's appearance had provoked on the streets. They were an unwelcome reminder that, although it was a lot safer to ignore her feelings for Logan, someday it might be too late: he might find somebody else and move on – without her.

Eyes still cast down, Logan only shrugged, his whole bearing a silent plea to her to stop talking. Of course Max registered it – but she spoke nevertheless, voice soft, hoping he would understand that she intended to help him, not to make things worse. "And I won't deny either that my behavior somehow changed after the shooting."

She paused, trying in vain to get eye contact to make sure he was listening to this next crucial point of her explanations. "But not because I wasn't attracted to you any more." Max allowed herself a little private smile as she remembered walking in at the end of one of his training sessions with Bling and found a hot and sweaty Logan who nearly had been her undoing.

"It was not the chair." Her confirmation was repeated once more… perhaps that was the way to get through his thick skull. "It was not you being a paraplegic," – another flinching at the word he despised so much "but how you dealt with your injury, dealt with me after the shooting. You set new rules for our relationship, and I accepted them because not having to deal with all this weird chemistry between us made things easier for me, was less confusing."

Again no reaction from Logan. He forced Max to get out her last weapon. Quiet now, she admitted her own insecurities that were adding yet another complication to this highly complex relationship of theirs. "I grew up in a laboratory, Logan, with soldiers and scientists as my role models. How in the world do you expect me to know about the subtleties of human courtship?"

He finally looked over to her at the mentioning of Manticore, his expression one of puzzled surprise as her feelings of inadequacy were something that, seemingly, had never come to his mind before. Max noted it with relief… and with satisfaction.

Maybe… he sees me as being just like any other woman after all…

Strengthened by his reaction, Max went on, intent on using this opportunity of having his undivided attention. With a great deal of exasperation tinting her voice, she told him all the things that should have been utterly obvious to him, but obviously weren't. "How could you think I wasn't interested? Hell, Logan, I came back to you, even though you and your crazy plans for me being Eyes Only's secret weapon for saving the world could easily get me killed. I could've just as well called Lydecker and told him where he could find me. I choose to risk my freedom for seeing you again. Isn't that proof enough that I was madly attracted to you?"

He'd stared at her at through her speech, while his expression changed from careful interest to the pondering surprise of someone who, for the first time, saw things from a different angle. She'd stunned him again… and yet, it seemed like nothing she could say was enough to make him break this whacky, self-imposed silence for a second time.

But, at least, she wasn't ignored again. Her answer was accepted by a simple nod, neither rejecting nor affirming what she'd said. Once more, Logan was silent as his eyes were drawn to the glimmering pattern of raindrops on the window-glass, brightened by random beams of light. However, it wasn't the heavy, almost hostile silence with which she'd been confronted upon entering the apartment, but just Logan, lost in thought, now that everything had been said. It wasn't much; he still hadn't told her what he really felt about her…. And yet, this subtle change of atmosphere gave Max hope that saying practically everything but the final "I love you" had cracked that foolish-but-safe attitude which, by enabling him not to display any human weakness, prevented him from having a real life.

Watching him musingly, Max allowed herself to ease back into the sofa and to stretch out her stiff legs, releasing the tension of this nerve-wrecking evening. With her anger gone and her worries eased, Max now could really see how exhausted Logan looked. Face pale and eyes shadowed his appearance held nothing of the immense energy that normally radiated from him and drew everybody around into his spell. This lingering apathy made her realize that his desperate struggle to stay on his legs with all his willpower, hadn't only been an immense emotional burden. His body, too, had gone through a lot: it had been in a literal battle with itself, first burning up every bit of available energy to build up nerves and muscles, only to dissolve them again, in just a matter of days. Now Logan was plainly and utterly drained, left with no reserves to carry on.

To see the mighty Eyes Only – the man whose efforts made a difference every day – so defeated and fatigued, loosened Max's last restrains allowing her to keep her distance. Without bothering to think about what she was doing, following a primordial instinct she didn't even know she possessed, Max covered the few feet between them to kneel down by his side and embrace him – just as she had done earlier today when she had found him, alive. For a split second she was afraid he would reject her, but then, as his chin was tipped down gingerly onto her head, Logan's arms came around her. However, it was nothing like the desperate, fierce hug they had shared that afternoon. It almost seemed as if he didn't find the strength for more. His weary, lethargic movements reminded Max once more how close she had been to losing him.

They stayed like that for a long time, each of them losing track of time, Max listening to the steady rhythm of Logan's heart, Logan taking comfort in her warm body, as he slowly let go of the tension of the past days.

... to be continued…