A/N Holy Crap an update! Yay!
Sightings
Part II
By Toblerone
For several moments there was no conscious thought. He could scarcely breathe, let alone focus enough to think, to analyze this unforeseen situation. When faced with unexpected circumstances, Logan's mind was typically sharp and fast. Plans B, C, D and F would automatically be considered and utilized or dismissed and Plan G would instantly occur to him. He had imagined, naturally, what it might be like to see her again. However he had been very careful to remind himself, constantly, that these musings were pure fiction. The cold hard truth, he told himself daily, was that such a sighting was impossible. He had never once truly believed that she would come back to Seattle, to him, or that the world was actually small enough for a chance meeting to take place. He was not so optimistic. Not anymore.
But there she was in a pale yellow uniform, serving coffee to a tiny old man. The only difference in her appearance was that her hair was blonde, and much longer than he had ever seen it. He watched, captivated, as she smiled softly, listening as the wrinkled customer (obviously a regular) described something to her. The man was gesticulating wildly, quite involved in his tale, and Max nodded indulgently every so often.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered.
He stared. He was sure that she must have been a hallucination brought on by a year of sleeplessness and malnutrition. Where had she come from, why hadn't he noticed her there before? Perhaps he had fallen asleep at the wheel and was now unconscious, in a ditch, bleeding, and dreaming of heaven while waiting for certain death. He hoped Bling would survive the crash.
As shock wore off a little, his heart began to pound, his mouth went dry, his palms were suddenly moist and he absently rubbed his hands over his thighs in an effort to dry them off. A debilitating bout of nervousness overtook him all of sudden. There she was, as enthralling as she was the first time he laid eyes on her. And him? He was a wreck. He hadn't shaved in days and what was once slightly annoying stubble was now a full blown beard (and an untrimmed and not at all groomed beard at that). He was thinnest he'd ever been, and not at all healthy looking. His hair, thankfully, was as short as it had been when she had left (Bling had literary forced him a barbers' about a week before, claiming that he looked like a "dirty hippie"), but he hadn't showered that morning, in his rush to be on the road. He supposed that he was greasy by now. She, on the other hand, looked perfectly clean. Perfectly perfect.
And just like that all the memories he had spent a great deal of time and effort repressing, broke free and an incredible heartsickness tore through all that was left of his self control. He felt drained, like he hadn't the strength to fight his own defenses anymore. He was so tired, physically and mentally … he was so goddamn tired of longing and regretting. His throat itched with unspoken words and he felt sick with wanting. He wanted to be rid of the constant dull ache he carried… but that was impossible…
Bling watched in bewilderment as a range of emotions flashed across Logan's face. His back to the kitchen, he did not notice the appearance of his friend's beloved cat burglar. What he did notice was the way Logan's skin paled. He looked almost nauseous and, Bling noted with concern, his tense grip on the edge of the table had made his knuckles white. Logan's self neglect naturally made him ill from time to time; maybe that was what happening now. Bling was about to reach out a hand to take Logan's temperature when he noticed the direction of his friend's intent gaze. He turned to look and just like that the ever unfazed and consistently calm side-kick felt his jaw drop.
Maggie reappeared with their coffee just as Max turned and disappeared into what they could only assume was the kitchen. Bling managed to give his thanks and make light conversation with the waitress, but Logan was lost – his thoughts spinning and his head pounding.
"Your food will be right out. You boys enjoy that coffee."
"Thanks."
Logan stirred and sipped his coffee mechanically, his eyes still trained on the spot he had last seen her. Bling watched in silence. Although he obviously had more control of his thoughts and understanding of the situation than Logan, he had no idea how to respond. If Max saw them what would she do? How would the two star-crossed lovers respond to each other? Would they ever recover from such an encounter? They wouldn't be able to stay long in this tiny diner in this tiny town. However long Logan allowed himself to linger in the place where she lived, the responsibilities he left behind would pull at him, and He and Bling would have to return to Seattle at one point or another. And who knew if it was even remotely safe for Max to come back with them? Not that Bling believed they would let themselves admit their need to be together. He had hoped, adamantly, that they would one day see past the excuses they had made, so long ago, and give into the love that was so evidently there. But, he was, sadly, very much doubtful that his hopes would ever be realized. But, he was getting ahead of himself. Max didn't even know they were there yet. Maybe Logan wouldn't even let her see them – maybe he would make them leave before she could. Or maybe they would exchange a few awkward words and Logan and Bling would flee into the night. Only longing eyes staring into a rearview mirror would indicate that any meeting had occurred, and the incident would never be spoken of again… Maybe… All he could do at this point was wait and see.
"Did you…" Logan was still staring, and Bling thought that maybe he had spoken without realizing it. But then Logan turned and looked him right in the eye. He looked like he was struggling to comprehend the world around him. "Did you see her?"
"Yes."
Logan sighed with what Bling could only assume was relief. Had he thought her a hallucination, a dream? It wasn't too hard to believe, considering Logan's extreme exhaustion.
"Logan-" Bling began but Logan shushed him because she had returned. She placed a slice of pie in front of the story telling old man. They exchanged a few words that Logan couldn't hear. But then Maggie was back with their food – sandwiches – and Logan couldn't take the suspense anymore.
"That waitress," Logan motioned towards Max, not really thinking about what he was saying, "has she worked here long?"
"Hmm?" She looked back at Max. "Oh, you mean Lizzie? Yeah, she's been here a few months… Why?"
"Uh…We uh, we used to work with her." It's the first thing that popped into his head and Maggie looked a little skeptical.
Bling cleared his throat and took control, "We haven't seen her in a while. Bit of a shock."
"Yeah…" Logan trailed off, still staring at Max. Maggie frowned and looked from Logan to "Lizzie" and back. She raised an eyebrow and threw Bling an inquisitive glance. He shrugged, gave her a look that seemed say I've been dealing with this for a while now, and sipped his coffee. She turned and watched her young friend, oblivious to the many eyes on her, go back into the kitchen – probably to get more pie.
It was a slow night. Sundays always were at Katie's. Only a few of the regulars were at the counter. Old Roy who had somewhat of a crush on her, Jim who was drowning his sorrows (what exactly those were he never said) with his third beer, and Bob who just liked Maggie's pie. On Sundays Roy liked to tell her about his adventurous days in the Navy, and tonight had been no exception. He was funny old guy and his sparkling green eyes reminded her home, so she had smiled and listened and nodded at the appropriate moments.
Calm as it was, she'd never really liked Sunday nights. When it was busy, when she had a lot to do – balancing trays and dealing with customers – it was easier to ignore the persistent memories and remaining regret. It was Sundays, like this one, when she'd think of him the most. Think of his eyes begging her to say but his voice telling her to go. Think of the sudden feeling of dread that claimed her halfway through that first night – when she reached for the phone in a near panic and then pulled away from it just as fast. I can't go back now she had told herself then It wouldn't be safe – for either of us. The worst Sundays were when it rained. Not only were there less customers, but the rain made her think of Seattle. Of thunderstorms spent in his penthouse, candles lit during power outages, his eyes watching the droplets roll down the wide windows.
Sometimes these memories, these images, were comforting. They could help her get through particularly stressful days. Life couldn't be all that bad if there was someone like Logan out there in the world – protecting the downtrodden and maybe missing her just badly as she missed him. But, she had found, more often then not, her musings were painful – mournful, even. Their time together had been so short, it difficult not to wish for more. It wouldn't have made a difference she tells herself often even if I had been there for longer, for years, we never would have been… together. But despite all she tells herself, all she knows, she finds herself longing for the impossible every so often.
This was such a time, such a Sunday. He'd been there with her, in the back of her mind all day – more so than usual. She had felt strange all day, like she was expecting something to happen. And, when the day was ending and all that was left was Roy, Jim, and Bob, she'd felt the oddest sense of disappointment. Some others had come in apparently, while she had cleaning in the kitchen. But when she'd gone out Roy had grabbed her attention and Bob had asked for more pie, so she hadn't seen if the arrivals were the answer to her weird anxiousness.
Max was heating up Bob's pie (the last slice), when Maggie came into the kitchen. Leaning against the door frame, Maggie studied her young co-worker. Lizzie was an interesting gal that much Maggie had picked up on right away. She was sassy and fun most days, but very vague about her past, almost secretive at times. There moments, when she thought herself alone or unnoticed, when Maggie would see a look of sadness overtake her pretty features. It was plain to see that Liz was a woman with a past. Maggie didn't push or ask questions, that wasn't her place. But she had come to consider Liz a friend, and would like to see her happy, if that was at all possible.
"There are some boys out there. Say they know you."
Max looked up from the microwave where Bob's pie was spinning in circles, a perplexed expression on her face.
"Boys?"
"Yeah, one's a big black guy, other one's in a wheelchair."
Maggie watched as Liz tensed.
"Wheelchair?" Her voice trembled as her eyes grew wide.
"Yeah… You ok?" The color had drained out of Liz's face. Maggie was beginning to wonder just who these guys were, that could raise such a reaction out of a girl who had thrown out four very large drunken construction workers, with relative ease only the day before.
"Yeah, Yeah I'm fine."
"Want me to get rid of them?" Maggie walked towards her, a little worried.
"No! I mean, no it's fine, I uh… it sounds like, um, some people I used to know…"
She went to the door frame and scanned the restaurant, spotting them easily. She wondered how she missed them before. She almost smiled at the sigh of the back of Bling's Bald head, but the man across from him took all her attention. Logan. His brow was furrowed and he was staring at the table in concentration, his mind clearly working. The familiar expression made her hear beat faster. He was scruffier than he was when she left, thinner too – but it was him. Logan.
"You in trouble Lizzie?" Maggie voice came from behind and Max heard the concern.
Bob's pie was done heating and the microwave beeped shrilly. Logan looked up suddenly and their eyes met once again, as if there had never a time when they were not gazing into each other's depths.
"I might be."
...TBC...
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