Written after watching episode 6X17. A story of how things might have continued between Logan and Wheeler. One of my older stories.

Players

"Meg, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

For a moment, Logan watched her go before turning his attention back to the captain. However, he couldn't shake this feeling. This feeling that not everything was alright. That she had not told him the truth. Unfortunately, he was unable to react at that moment. So he had let her walk away.

The sound of her voice, those four words haunted Mike Logan for quite a while. And so did Megan's expression. The deep sadness that had been in her eyes when Rodgers had told her that her father was not among the bodies found so far. It had robbed Megan somehow of the hope that she would finally get an answer as to what had happened to her father.

As Mike entered his apartment and was about to take off his coat, he paused in his movement. No, he couldn't leave it like that. Her four words. Mike suspected that Megan was not feeling well. You know, not after everything that had happened in the last few days. The things she'd experienced. He just knew it. And he would go to her now. Check on her. He just had to do it.

And so he made his way to her apartment, arriving relatively quickly.

"Logan," Megan was surprised when she opened the door and saw her partner standing outside.

"Hello Wheeler."

"What are you doing here?" Why was he here? Megan had last seen him back then, when they had been at the mafia dumping ground. After that, she'd gotten in the car alone. Had driven away. And had left Mike behind. Megan had wanted to be alone. Alone with her thoughts and the feelings - all the things she didn't want to put into words. Which she didn't want to allow herself to feel. The more she thought about it, the worse it would get. The pain she felt.

"Can I come in?" he asked in lieu of an answer.

Megan hesitated. Actually, she wanted to be alone. But then again - maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. A little distraction would certainly do her some good.

"I made myself some tea. Would you like a cup too?" Megan finally asked, opening the apartment door wider so Mike could come in.

"Yeah, I'd love one."

Mike looked around Megan's apartment while she got him a cup. He had never been here before.

"Sit down," he heard Megan's voice.

And so he walked over to the sofa. Mike's eyes fell on the coffeetable. To the photos that lay there, half-covered by a magazine. Pulling out one of them, he looked at it. It showed a little girl and a man. Probably Wheeler and her father. Mike didn't have a chance to look at the photo further, however, because he heard footsteps. He quickly slid the photo back under the magazine.

"Here," Megan said, handing Mike a cup before joining him on her sofa. Megan pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Silently, they looked at each other. Mike eyed her. Tried to discern in her gaze what was going on inside her. How she felt. Actually, Megan had never told him much about herself. Revealed little about her childhood. Her past. What it was like growing up without a father. And now, Megan looked so vulnerable. So fragile. Mike felt a surge of protectiveness in his heart.

"Do you want to talk about it," Mike broke the silence that had fallen, "I'm a really good listener."

"I . . There. .. . You know, when the call came, I thought for a moment . . . Well, if he was buried there, I'd finally know what happened to him. Would it be so wrong of me to wish it? So that he's buried there?" she then asked.

Mike shook his head.

"You know, I've wondered all these years if it was me. If I had done something wrong. That my father had left because I hadn't been good. Because I had done something that -" Megan broke off. She didn't want to share her thoughts and feelings.

Indecisive, Mike looked at her, not knowing exactly what to do.

He had actually come here because he wanted to make sure that everything was okay after all. With her. That his feeling had deceived him. But now that Megan was sitting in front of him - she seemed so small and fragile. And in Mike arose the desire to just pull her into his arms. To hold her tight. And to promise her that everything would be okay. That she would eventually get all the answers she was so desperately seeking.

But he couldn't make this promise to her.

"Come on, you need a little distraction. What do you say I order us a pizza and we watch a movie? I'll even watch one of those chick-flicks with you," he said then.

It wasn't easy for Mike. Dealing with sad women. Back when Carolyn had been his partner, with her it had been easy. He had known what to do when Carolyn had a bad day. When she was sad. When she was angry. But with Megan. Megan's was just different. He couldn't just make a stupid joke to make her laugh.

"I'm not hungry," Megan stated.

"But a movie? Come on Wheeler. I'm sure you have Titanic sitting around somewhere," he said.

Megan nodded. Yeah, Titanic sounded good. And she would cry watching the movie. Then she could finally let the tears she'd been trying to suppress since the phone call earlier. And she would blame it on the movie. Mike wouldn't ask any questions. Would just assume she was crying because Jake Dawson was dying in the the cold ocean, and not because it felt like she'd lost her father a second time.

"And I'll order us a pizza. With extra cheese, pepperoni and anchovies. Just the way you like it. Maybe you'll be hungry after all," Mike added.

So it happened that Mike Logan didn't sit in his empty apartment that night, alone as planned, but with Megan Wheeler on the couch, watching Titanic with her.

It wasn't long before the first tears made their way down Megan's cheeks.

"Hey, the sad parts are still coming. The ship hasn't even hit the iceberg yet," he said, hoping to make her smile.

"I-"

"Come here," Mike then said, opening his arms. And of course she went into his arms. Megan enjoyed the comfort his arms provided. Mike held her in his arms. Stroked her back. He felt a little guilty that he was enjoying this feeling right now. The feeling of having Megan in his arms. After all, he had actually come here to make sure she was okay. That his partner was fine.

However, he hadn't counted on watching Titanic with her and holding her in his arms. Comforting her. And especially not enjoying that feeling. Feeling her body up close. Mind you, he was only a man.

Nevertheless, he would suppress it. His focus would be only on Megan. On the fact that she needed a friend now. A shoulder to lean on. To cry on. And that was what he would be. A friend.

"Do you want me to stay here tonight?" he asked then.

Megan hesitated. She didn't want to be alone. But then again . She couldn't, after all. . . No, but maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"I can sleep here on the sofa," he added, as if sensing her inner turmoil.

When Mike woke up that night, he saw a figure standing at the window. Megan.

For a moment, he hesitated before throwing back the blanket Megan had given him and getting up. His bare feet made no sound as he walked over to Megan. The latter was still standing at the window with her back to him, staring into the dark night.

Very close behind Megan he stopped. All he had to do was lift his hand to touch her. But he didn't.

"Megan," he half-whispered her name so as not to startle her.

"I thought I'd finally get my answers. That I'd finally find out why he abandoned me back then. My own father. And then that phone call came. All my hopes were dashed with it. And I still don't know where he is. Or why he abandoned me. Like all the other men in my life," towards the end Megan had become quieter and quieter. However, Mike had managed to understand her even then. And he knew who she meant by all the other men. He had witnessed it all up close - the stuff with her ex-boyfriend, the many failed first dates, the blind dates. She had no luck with men.

And then Mike gave in to the impulse he had suppressed earlier. He put one arm around her, his other hand resting on her forearm. Slowly, he let his hand slide down, over her arm, to her hand. As his hand rested on hers, on the hand Megan had clenched into a fist, she slowly relaxed under his touch.

As if of its own accord, her hand opened and their fingers intertwined.

"I'm beginning to wonder if there's something wrong with me. There is no man who wants me. Not my fiancé and even my own father didn't want anything to do with me. Otherwise he wouldn't have left."

"He was a fool. They both were."

"I am unlovable."

"Oh Megan, sweetheart, that's not true. I lo-," Mike broke off. He had already said too much.

Megan turned around in his arms. Their eyes met. He was gazing down at her, head tilted down-eyes softening in compassionate understanding. There was so much in his gaze. So many feelings he had suppressed until now. But not anymore.

"Mike," Megan whispered, and then, then it happened. Later, neither of them could say with certainty who had made the next move. But in the next moment, their lips met in a kiss. Finally.