Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee own Dark Angel; no copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: Season 1, Between "Camera" and "Meow."
Rating: G
A/N: Feedback always appreciated:gilenagile@hotmail.com

Logan sighed, irritation rivaling bemusement, as he hung up the phone. How had his grandmother managed to talk him into this trip. He had successfully avoided going to Canalee for almost a year now, despite the numerous invitations and reminders. Yet, today, she had somehow taken charge of everything and wound him around her little finger, just like he was eight years old.

Years ago all she had to do was feed him her chocolate chip cookies and he was her willing accomplice in any undertaking. He smiled remembering summer evenings on her porch overlooking the bay, the sun seeping gently from the sky as she braided his sister's long hair, her stories entrancing them as cookie crumbs piled up on the stenciled floor boards.

"Penny for 'em," an insistent voice demanded, jolting Logan from his memories with a start and sending the phone, on which his hand continued to rest, from the computer desk on a collision course with the burnished hardwood floor of the apartment.

"Jumpy today, aren't we? What've you been into this time? Some literally ramblings, perhaps?" Max's dark eyes sparkled up at him from her crouched stance, the phone safe in her grasp.

"Oh nothing much, wrapping up the demise of a drug empire, communicating with the global community, wondering where to purchase a 'Knock before Entering' sign."

"Come on Logan, you need me to add a little excitement to your dull and boring life."

Given the increase in his heart rate as she gracefully drew herself up and deposited the phone on his lap, he really couldn't argue with that. He stopped breathing as her dark shoulder length curls brushed against the side of his face. Finally, he found his eyes level with the perfect expanse of sleek olive skin displayed between her low riding jeans and cropped blue T-shirt. In one fluid movement, she had managed to obliterate all coherent thought from his mind.

"Earth to Logan." Max rested one hip on the computer desk, her hand resting on the other, the look of exasperation on her face belied by the slight upturn of her full lips and mischievous glint in her dark chestnut eyes.

Logan carefully set the phone down, raising his eyes from her flat stomach to her eyes, which gave no indication of knowledge of the effect she had on him. He shifted his wheel chair rapidly, his focus now safely on the computer screen. "Seems I've got to go up north for a few days. Trying to figure out how to get through all this work first."

"Up north where?"

Logan grinned, if Max could move with the grace of a cat, she also shared that species' reputation for inquisitiveness. "My grandmother wants me to visit."

"Oh, family!" Max's response indicated she understood his lack of enthusiasm when it came to socializing with the Cale clan.

"No, it's not like that. This is my mother's mother, grandma Richards." As soon as he spoke he realized his error. What was wrong with him today, must be lack of caffeine, black market supplies had finally dried up. He focused his thoughts on Columbia and coffee beans as Max circled and ended up on his other side sitting on the desk, her arm resting innocently between his face and the flickering screen.

"So what's grandma like?"

" Warm, intelligent, funny, feisty…likes to get her own way on occasion." He glanced at her purposely after that last remark, but he knew she was too focused on her prey to pay any heed to subtleties. Maybe there was some instant coffee in the back of a cupboard. He used it in dessert recipes sometimes.

"And you have to get out of the city, away from work, out into the countryside, and visit this woman. No wonder you look down."

Without moving so much as an eyebrow, she was beginning to stalk him. He backed up and started moving toward the expanse of the kitchen. He had some Earl Grey tea somewhere, he was sure of it, maybe not with enough caffeine for his present requirements, but he could use an extra bag or three.

"I've got a lot of work to do right now. Informants I need to contact, leads to follow up. I don't need a day's drive and a family gathering." He cringed at the defensiveness in his own voice, or was it because he felt Max approaching from behind ready to pounce. Maybe he should just move to a Columbian coffee plantation and be done with it.

"So take along an interesting travel companion accomplished in driving and laptop computer operation, not to mention intelligent, exciting…" Abruptly she stopped, uncertainty clouding her steady gaze. "Not that I'd want to intrude. Your grandmother may not want an extra guest, especially not a semi-human one."

He turned the chair, swiftly catching her hand in his. "She suggested you come. In fact every time she calls we're both included in the invitation. However, you have work."

"Not for the next five days. Normal found a rat in the mailroom. Thinks he's coming down with bubonic plague. The entire building is being fumigated, sprayed, scrubbed, and sterilized." The smile she returned was unequivocally triumphant. "So how does Grandma know about me?"

Logan, both hands back on the wheel of his chair, steered purposefully toward the kitchen cabinets, wondering where Juan Valdez disappeared to when you needed him the most.

"Look you find out all about the Richards when we get there." Logan's body was rigid, his eyes on the road ahead, oblivious to the snow capped peaks rising to the east or the ocean sparkling in a rare shaft of morning sunlight off to the other side of the winding coast road.

Max ceased her inquisition and started rifling through the collection of CDs in the glove compartment, shifting her body so his sideways glance was met with a view of her back. Logan sighed imperceptibly. He really couldn't blame her for being ticked off. He had been in a funk all morning, any pleasant feelings of anticipation of having Max beside him for the next few days and of seeing his grandmother again having vanished as he woke to a dreary Seattle dawn.

Ever since he'd come home from the hospital he'd hated mornings. The daily realization that only half his body worked. The effort to get moving and motivated for another day of struggling through mindless tasks, or rather tasks that used to be mindless but now devoured his time and confidence.

He eased the Azteck around a curve in the road where the ocean had eaten into the land, creating a small harbor. Fishing boats bobbed happily in the brisk westerly wind, the sun peaking through the clouds again illuminating the whitecaps dashing against their bows. He saw Max taking in the scene as she slid a CD into the player. Whisper light tones of Sibelius filled the automobile.

"Good choice."

"Yeh, well unfortunately I forgot to bring anything loud and obnoxious with me." Max cast a dirty look his way as if, somehow, he fit the bill to a tee.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"I bet that's what Jaws said to all the folks he had for breakfast."

Logan smiled slightly. He and Max had been spending a quite a few late evenings viewing his old movie collection recently. However, if anyone was in danger of being breakfast it was him. Self-preservation aside, he cursed his automatic response of shutting Max out whenever the subject got too close to home for his liking.

He thought of the photographs Lydecker had fed him, now shredded, as they should be. Max had come so far from her past, sharing part of herself with him if only he wasn't fool enough to shut her out again. If she was beginning to overcome Manticore surely he could slay his demons too, the ancient and the new.

"I guess I'm nervous. Haven't been up here since the shooting. It's kind of uncomfortable meeting people again, acting like things are the same, wondering if they're going to show pity or embarrassment." He kept his focus on the gray surface of the road winding before him.

"Maybe it depends on what you're lookin' to see."

He looked over at her then, and almost gasped at how beautiful she looked, her eyes on his, proud and uncompromising, her skin and hair radiant in the early spring light. 'Dark Angel', that phrase always came back to him, man-made with a soul that soared fearlessly. He wished he could reach out and touch her, feel her strength and her softness.

Max leaned back into the comfortable seat as Logan relaxed into the movement of the car, controlling it decisively with his hands, without thought. Maybe this trip had possibilities after all, if he could just stop himself from being such an idiot.

"Logan."

"Yep."

"Speaking of breakfast . . . "

The western sky was streaked red and purple by the time they reached Canalee Bay. Logan maneuvered the car up a small private drive across from the expanse of water. The mountain peaks shimmed in the iridescent light way off in the distance, while the gentle hills leading down to the bay were fading into darkness. The drive curved upward toward an old two-story farmhouse nestled on a small plateau on the hillside. Max smiled at the postcard scene in front of her, warmth and light glowing from the windows and the half opened door.

No sooner had they pulled up beside the porch than the slim figure of a woman appeared waving and making her way down the half dozen steps sure-footedly in the darkness. Max came around the rear of the vehicle to see Logan, still sitting in the driver's seat, enveloped in an enthusiastic hug, as laughter spilled into the silent night air. The woman finally straightened up, pulling a cozy crocheted shawl about her, and turned to greet her other guest.

"Welcome to Canalee Max, I'm Anna." Max found herself gazing into warm brown eyes of Anna Richards, and pulled into the warmth of a firm embrace. "Come on, let's get your bags inside before you freeze." Max opened the hatch, watching as the sudden light illuminated the older woman's face, her gray hair pulled back into a thick braid accentuating her high cheekbones and delicate features.

By the time the two women gathered the bags, Logan had hauled himself out of the SUV and into the chair. He took the sports bag from his grandmother's grasp and placed it on his lap, following her up the sturdy ramp attached to the side of the wide porch. Silently, he gave thanks for the changes that had been made to the house during his grandfather's final years. Quickly, they entered the wide hallway, shutting the old wooden door on the darkness outside.

Half an hour later they were seated at the sturdy oak table in the large old kitchen with steaming mugs of tea, fresh sandwiches, and home baked apple pie spread out before them. "I can see where Logan gets his talent in the kitchen" Max managed to mumble in between mouthfuls. For the last leg of the journey there had been no places to stop and eat along the roadside.

"No, I can't claim the credit there. His mother was always the cook in the family. Her father, God rest his soul, used to put on pounds when she visited with the kids during the summer. When the mood hit she would bake up a storm and if Logan got in on the action, the kitchen would look like a storm hit it." Ann smiled at the memory and at Max's enquiring gaze. "Anyway, plenty of time for stories tomorrow. You both must be exhausted."

Logan, looking like he had dodged the bullet for now at least, nodded. Max, however, shifted nervously in her seat. Logan instantly recognized her "caged animal look". His grandmother, noticing their hesitancy, excused herself, saying something about having to telephone her daughter before it got much later. Max, making herself busy clearing the table, avoided Logan's eyes.

"Not tired? We could play some chess. Grandma has a . . ."

"Logan, go to bed before you fall asleep." She seemed as surprised as he was at the slight edge to her voice. "I just need to blow off some energy. Maybe go for a walk. Guess I'm not designed for sitting in a vehicle all day." Her smile was tenuous.

Logan loaded some of the dishes into the sink, holding back his arguments. It was dark. What if she met a car on the narrow road, what if she stayed off the road and stumbled in the dark on the uneven terrain, what if . . . OK, she was as surefooted as a mountain lion with a temper to match, so he had better not go the overprotective route. His logic, however, was doing little to allay his concern.

He knew there was more to her restlessness than she was letting on. He had seen that look before when, in a fit of stupidity he had shown her that poem he had written about her; when she dismissed the kiss they had shared outside his uncle's cabin; and sometimes late at night when he suggested she stay over in the guest room and she sped off on her baby to climb the Space Needle instead. It was a look he was seeing less and less of, as she let him inch his way toward her and he felt sad and angry that the shadows of Manticore still hovered over her. Some day he would bring Manticore down, but before that he hoped he could shatter the walls of uncertainty that surrounded her.

"There's a trail from the back of the farmhouse to the old cabin my great- grandparents originally built on the property. It's probably about three miles and the surface is pretty smooth."

"Actually, there's a boardwalk there now, at least half the way from the cabin to the house. The other half will be finished this summer." Anna had reappeared as Logan tried to steer Max on a safe course. She smiled at the look of surprise on her grandson's face. "I'm old Logan and I want to be able to walk back on the hill without breaking my neck."

"Max was thinking of talking a walk before bed. She's kind of stiff from being in the car all day." He couldn't help but smile at the look of concern that flitted across Anna's face. He knew she could be a worrier too, albeit a more diplomatic one than him.

"Well just be careful of the ravine about halfway along the trail. Adam, my son-in-law, had a team of young lads working on the trail last year, but the bad weather hit before they could finish it and replace that old fence that runs along side the path there."

Logan looked appreciatively at the elderly woman before him, remembering how she always managed to find summer jobs for young people from the village when times were tough and she could rustle together a few extra dollars. He also remembered the fence was surreptitiously built for his benefit, his grandmother worrying when her youngest grandson would take a mile long detour through the rough brush rather than walk the trail beside the step valley.

"Max, why don't I show you your room before you go out. Logan get her the flashlight from the dresser draw." Max grabbed her bags from the hallway and followed Anna up the steep stairs. "I've put you in Logan's mother's old room. It's small but Emily always loved it. She would sit in the window seat for hours looking over the bay." Anna's soft voice wafted clearly ahead of them, their footsteps silenced by the worn carpet runner held securely in place by brass rods on each wooden step.

Logan was left in the kitchen holding a flashlight he knew Max wouldn't need or use. He half smiled in resignation as he checked that the batteries were good anyway.

Max followed Anna into the bedroom, taking in the white paneled walls, the lace bedspread, the simple dressing table on which rested a clear glass vase of wild flowers, and the cushioned window seat. She dropped her bags, walking toward the window as the last trace of sunlight filtered in through the old windowpanes. She stood, entranced, watching as the moonlight caught the surface of the water in its silver embrace.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here Max."

"It's perfect." The two women stared silently at the scene before them, both lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Anna spoke." Logan is in his Granddad's old room downstairs. We had a room added there when Jim got sick. Anyway, it's at the back of the house, just follow the hallway past the sitting room." Max smiled at the woman she was beginning to quickly regard as a friend, as she extracted her running shoes from her duffle bag and slipped them on her petite feet.

Following Anna downstairs, Max stopped halfway, a picture hanging on the wall of a smiling woman with three laughing children catching her attention. The youngest had to be Logan, there was no mistaking those crystal blue eyes and disheveled blond hair. Looking back up at her Anna smiled. "Logan with his Mom and brother and sister."

"Brother?" He mentioned a sister, but I didn't know he had a brother."

Anna's face clouded, her voice tinged in sadness, "He died when Logan was eleven. The boys were playing at a quarry a couple of miles from town. Logan's brother got to close to the edge and fell onto a ledge a hundred feet below. By the time Logan got help it was to late to save him."

"And he blamed himself." Max's eyes had softened, her desire to escape forgotten for now.

"You know Logan. Many nights he'd wake up crying saying it should have been him who died. It was enough to break your heart. Truth be told, his brother was always a daredevil. He loved to scare Logan. I still think that was what he was doing when he fell. Of course, Logan never told, to this day he never speaks about it. In his eyes Ben could do no wrong." Anna stopped talking at Max's sharp intake of breath.

Max slid by Anna, a look of panic on her face. She ran unseeing into Logan, who had come around the corner from the kitchen and was sitting at the bottom of the stairs as his grandmother had finished talking. The front door slammed shut as she fled the house.

"Logan, . . . what did I say? Ididn't mean to upset her. I . . . "

"It's OK grandma."

"No it's not."

Logan couldn't stand to see her standing there looking confused and upset, and suddenly old. "Max had a brother named Ben also. He died recently." He spoke to the point, hoping to placate her with the truth, partial though it may be.

"Oh, Logan. I'm so sorry. There I was rambling on like an old fool I never thought . . ."

"How could you know grandma? Look, she'll be fine. She just needs some time alone to deal with it." In his heart he doubted that she would ever be fine as far as Ben was concerned. Although she hadn't spoken about what had happened he had know enough to put the pieces together. If he felt he had let his brother down, how much more must she feel like she had betrayed her's. He understood she had done what had to be done, all that she could have done. He also understood, from bitter experience, that these feelings were beyond the scope of understanding, of ever being made sense of and of ever being reconciled with.

"So grandma, did you put my superman blanket on the bed." He focused on the woman at his side, trying to put her at ease. Right now he could do little to help Max.

Anna had to laugh. "That disintegrated about twenty years ago, remember? One too many trips through the washing machine." She turned in the direction of the downstairs bedroom and he followed.

"So will the whole clan be out here over the weekend." He tried to sound casual.

"Actually, Helen and Patrick have taken their families up the Spring Fair in Glenadoon. They won't be back until Monday."

"Hope I didn't scare them off."

Anna looked a little guilty. "They decided to go before I called you." Logan raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "One of the benefits of age, I get to be a bit selfish every now and again. And if I want you all to myself for a couple of days, I'm entitled."

Logan covered the wrinkled hand resting on his shoulder with his. She always knew what to do to make him feel at ease. When he was younger, he could never figure out how she did that, if it was accident or if she knew him so well she could read his soul. He had finally realized that the ease and grace with which she treated those around her had nothing to do with accident and everything to do with design.

"Max will be all-right, won't she? Maybe I should wait up for her. " The worry was still in her eyes.

"She's had a hard life. She's not used to family and home-life and dealing with relationships, so she takes time out now and again to clear her mind. She'll be fine by morning, in fact I hope you have a lot of food in for breakfast."

Anna smiled remembering the quantity of food Max had consumed at supper. "You never mentioned how pretty she is Logan."

"Grandma, like I tell you every time you call, we're just friends."

"I know, but there's something special about her isn't there?"

You have no idea, Logan thought, as his grandmother kissed him goodnight.

Max was on her second plate of pancakes and sausages when Anna suggested they go visit the cabin that morning. Picking the last sausage off the plate, she helped Logan clean up the kitchen while his grandmother went to start up the ancient Land rover she kept in the detached garage to the side of the house.

Standing over the sink, Max watched out the window as Anna came around the house and started yanking the garage doors open. It didn't require her enhanced hearing to notice the sound of the hinges, long since rusted in the salty sea air protest the movement, the sound carrying clearly through the crack in the window letting the aroma of frying sausages and the excess heat from the stove out into the crisp northwestern air.

"Sorry about bolting last night."

"No problem."

"Yes it is. I probably freaked your grandmother out."

"She doesn't freak out easily."

An engine attempted to splutter to life outside as Max turned around to face him rather sheepishly. "It's just everything here is so normal, so perfect. Guess that brings out the freak in me even more." Her attempt at a smile was laboring unsuccessfully on her full lips until she picked up the muttered curses coming from the yard. Turning again she saw an elderly figure kicking the rear end of the Land Rover now visible through the open garage doors.

"She one spunky lady."

"Reminds me of somebody . . . I think you two will get along just fine"

Max blushed slightly as she caught Logan staring at her out of the corner of her eye. " If she knew what I really am she would look at me differently." She lowered her head studying the suds floating in the cooling dishwater. "Look at me Logan, I am a freak, a genetically enhanced killing machine. I don't fit into a normal life. I can see that, why can't you?"

"Guess it depends on what you're looking to see." Logan held her gaze, as a slight smile softened the corners of her haunted eyes.

They both looked abruptly toward the window as Anna peaked in, red in the face. "Logan, get me the jumper cables off the porch would you. This heap of junk needs to be taught a lesson." She stomped back toward the garage.

"Hey Logan." Max called as he wheeled out of the room. " Comparing a girl to his grandmother, however favorably, isn't something a guy should make a habit of."

Logan grinned as he shrugged into his jacket. Maybe there was hope for this guy yet.

Max gripped the back of Logan's seat as Anna shifted gears and gunned the rattling vehicle down the coast road. The woman was locked in a battle of wills, daring the struggling engine to cut out every time she depressed the accelerator even more. Max was glad she was on her good side.

"We could have taken the Azteck." Logan wedged himself firmly in the front seat with his arms, trying not to laugh.

"The road to the cabin was partially washed out in the last big storm. It's rough going in places, exactly what this baby was made to handle. Just have to remind it of that every now and again." Sharply, they turned the corner onto the small side road. Anna accelerated as the vehicle straightened up, making a run at the non-existent road surface on the incline ahead.

Fifteen jarring minutes later, they came out of the tree-lined lane and stopped in front of a small log cabin set in a large clearing on the hillside. Max climbed out of the backseat, sliding the wheelchair along behind her and setting it up by the front passenger side door. She joined Anna in front of the vehicle and together they took in the view.

The clearing extended far enough down the hillside to afford a panoramic view, over the treetops, of the bay. To the north, a headland stood tall over the ocean, its peak extending into the cloudless blue sky before falling away to sheer drop to the sea. To the south, the bay curved low and gently outward, the coast road following it before it turned south, disappearing into the forests beyond.

Logan approached the two women; thankful for the strength he had built up in his arms. Even though the ground was relatively even, it was tough going compared with the sidewalks of Seattle. Anna was pointing out the farmhouse, down the hill to the northwest. Max, however, was transfixed by the headland. "Maybe you can climb it later" he suggested, knowing her love for high places. She turned, grinning her eyes shining and catlike at the prospect.

"Better wait until tomorrow and start early. The climb isn't really that steep on the landward side, but it's longer than it looks. Anyway, it's still awfully cold for such a hike. You certainly don't want to be up there when the sun goes down. You'll have to come back in the summer Max." Anna hooked her arm into Max's and together they headed for the door of the cabin.

"Hey, I seem to remember you and Mom trekking up there one Easter."

Anna turned back to him, smiling at the memory. "It was a late Easter and we had quite a few layers of thermal underwear on. Besides, we didn't actually make it all the way to the top."

"You didn't tell us that."

Anna headed back toward the cabin grinning and ignoring Logan's indignant comment. "Speaking of cold, we don't have any heat in the cabin, apart from an old space heater Jake left out here when he was working on the interior last Fall. The storm took out the electrical line and the old chimney needs some work. You remember Jake Walters don't you Logan? He's been fixing the place up in between his other carpentry and construction jobs. He's been working in the city all winter but he's home now and wants to get started again soon, now that the worst of the cold season is almost over and the evenings are getting brighter again."

They were inside the building, Logan having easily navigated the ramp he assumed Jake had installed temporarily during the reconstruction. The main living area, consisting of a small kitchen to the front and a den to the back, was bathed in sunlight coming through the generous windows. The atmosphere, even given the bare slab floor and dustsheet covered furnishings, was undeniably cozy. Logan and Anna headed for the door to the side of the den to look at the bedroom and bathroom, while Max stood in the sunlight by the rear window. Logan thought he heard her purr as he passed by her.

"That branch must have come through the bedroom window in that big wind we had last week. Jake's coming out here tomorrow to go over the final plans. He can board it up then. I'd like you to met with him too Logan, to see what you think of everything." Anna and Logan had returned to the living area, Logan stopping in front of the rough wooden mantle and eyed his grandmother suspiciously.

"Logan I want you to have the cabin. Don't argue with me." Max smiled at Anna's tone. She knew her grandson very well. "I'm old and I want to put my affairs in order now."

"But what about the rest of the family? I'm hardly ever up here."

Anna sat on the sheet-covered sofa, eye level with him. "That's exactly why I chose you. You need the connection to this place, you always have, and I don't want it broken when I'm no longer here to nag you to come visit." She took his right hand off the wheel of his chair and held it in hers. "Promise me you'll keep Canalee part of your life. When things got bad with Jason, your mother always said this place kept her sane and grounded. Even though she couldn't visit much toward the end, she kept it in her heart to give her strength."

The mention of his father took Logan unawares and he drew back his hand quickly. Max tensed, seeing the familiar look on his face, as he drew the walls around himself. "Logan, don't say anything now, just think about it." Anna knew when to back off and leave him to figure things out by himself. She stood up, pulling her heavy coat tight around her. "I've got to go a mile or so down the road and see a man about a chicken. Why don't you young folk look around and I'll pick you up in a little bit."

"We'll walk. It's a beautiful day, we can take the trail and meet you back at the house." Anna smiled broadly at the decisiveness in Max's voice. Perhaps her grandson had finally met his match.

"Logan, it’s not a race you know." Max strode behind him on the boardwalk as it meandered gently down the hillside. "It might be nice to take the time to look at nature, now that we’re actually out in it."

"Sorry." The mumbled response was barely audible over the sound of birdsong and the branches of the evergreens straining in the brisk spring breeze. He slowed his pace but kept his eyes purposely on the trail ahead.

Max rolled her eyes upward. "Original Cindy said I should watch out for bears. Guess she was right." Logan offered her a half-hearted grin as she drew level with him, but showed no sign of wanting to make the conversation a two-sided one. They had already covered a good mile of the journey and were now approaching the section running along the fenced off ravine. Here the boardwalk ended, but the trail was compacted and relatively smooth.

Suddenly Max ran ahead, vaulting the rickety old picket fence and catching the outstretched branch of an ancient oak, that soared majestically above the pines. With the ease of a gymnast, she swung herself up. "Max!" She grinned at the panic in his voice.

"Finally got your attention. Now what do I have to do to get you to talk to me?" She walked, arms outstretched, along the thick branch until she reached the trunk. From there she could look down into the narrow valley at the small stream flowing rapidly below.

"Get back here now!" Logan was obviously not amused. She crossed her arms and legs, leaning against the rutted bark, and raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"OK we’ll talk, just come down. Please Max."

"We’ll since you asked so nicely." She retraced her steps and jumped, landing in front of him in a perfectly balanced crouch.

He wanted to be mad at her but all he could think of was sliding his hand around her neck, pushing his fingers through her soft disheveled hair, and drawing her toward him for a kiss. Instead, he tightened his grip on the wheels of the chair. "Even cats can fall, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Her reply almost seemed like a challenge. He held her steady gaze and finally started back along the path. Sometimes he felt that he could read her so well, though maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. Other times he felt lost, like a sailor trying to navigate a fog bank.

"So you’re going to accept your Grandmother’s offer, right." Whether this was a question or a statement was hard to tell. They were moving slowly now, side by side, enveloped by the evergreen forest all around them. "We could come back in the summer, it would be so pretty here then." Logan looked up at her in surprise. She was willing to commit herself to future plans with him. He couldn’t help grinning.

"Whatcha looking so pleased about?"

"Nothing, just never figured the word ‘pretty’ as being part of your vocabulary that’s all." Nice save Cale, think you can be more of an idiot if you really try? He watched her walk a couple of steps ahead unfazed by his flippant remark. "She’s right, you know." Max turned, raising an eyebrow in his direction. "I need to keep connected to this place." He met her inquisitive stare. "A visit this summer sounds good. We could find some more rats to keep Normal busy." They smiled at each other and continued their journey.

"You came up here a lot as a kid?" Her question was tenuous. He knew there were other ones she would rather ask if she had the courage, or maybe he was the one who needed the courage.

"Yeah, well until I was twelve or so. My mother would bring us up for the whole summer and Dad would join us for a couple of weeks and a weekend here and there. Then he got more and more involved in the company as it grew." Logan kept his eyes on the trail, maneuvering around tree roots that rutted the surface occasionally. "Anyway, he didn’t have time for Canalee anymore and thought I should be doing better things with my time."

"Your mother must have resented that."

"She always saw the good in him, thought she could save him from himself. The more distant he became the harder she tried to be his companion and help him focus on things other than work."

"Doesn’t sound like the Dad of the Year."

"He was a good man. He just lost himself along the way. At least that’s what mom said before she died. I don’t know, maybe we’re all doomed to accept our real nature in the end. Look at Jonas, believe it or not he used to be fun and charming but that killer instinct was always there under the surface."

Max kept pace with him, her eyes also looking ahead. "My brother Ben was what all the X5s are capable of being, a killer. Logan, I never told you what happened in the woods when Lydecker was after him. I . . ." She stopped abruptly, her eyes desperately searching his as he sat in front of her, silence stretching between them.

"I know. You did what you had to do."

"Afterwards, in your apartment, I sat wishing that I could kill that part of me as quickly as I killed him, that I could just be normal. All I proved is that I’m a monster too, not a creature the Blue Lady would care to have in her universe."

"You acted out of goodness Max. You saved innocent people from a man who was no longer sane and you gave him the only release he could have under the circumstances."

"Don’t you believe that we are what we are, no salvation possible?"

He looked into her dark eyes, now brimming over with tears. "Maybe we just need to find our way." They started walking again, following the path around the curve from the valley toward the farmhouse as the pale sun sent shafts of light through the trees.

Max stretched contentedly in the noon sunlight dribbling onto the front porch. Saturday evening had been spent for the most part in the kitchen, a room Max was rapidly growing very fond of. While Logan and his grandmother prepared the large chicken and its delicious accompaniments, she had acquired a lot of embarrassing information on Logan’s childhood antics. She smiled as she tightened the laces of her running shoes, remembering Logan’s pained expression. They had taken desert and coffee to the living room where Anna had insisted she look at the old family albums at which point Logan gave in to the inevitable and related a few adventures he and his siblings hadn’t shared with the grown ups at the time.

"Why not take the Aztek?" Logan asked his grandmother hopefully as they joined Max on the porch.

"No, it will get banged up and filthy on the road. The Land Rover’s already a wreck." Anna smiled as she headed off toward the garage.

"My grandmother’s driving has that effect. Wish me luck." Logan zipped his heavy jacket against the cold northwestern air. "So where are you taking your run."

"Oh, just around."

"You don’t have to go all the way to the top you know." Logan had no doubt she had the headland in mind. He watched as she waved back at him and started to jog down the road toward the coast, her hair flying in the breeze.

He found himself dwelling on that image of Max as his grandmother and Jake sat on the old sofa in the cabin discussing construction plans. He had forgotten how much of a perfectionist Anna was, going over every detail and exploring every option. His attention, however, surprisingly kept coming back to Max. Not that she hadn’t occupied his thoughts in Seattle, he had spent many sleepless nights looking out of his penthouse windows oblivious to the city below, his mind exploring every aspect of her. He had told himself that he was lonely and she was beautiful and enigmatic and such thoughts were understandable. Now he had spend two whole days in her presence and still her absence affected him like this.

After an hour and a half, Logan could no longer pretend to listen politely to the dynamics of the airflow through chimneys and wheeled himself outside. Looking northward toward the headland, he was surprised to see the sky turning rapidly gray and threatening. As he wheeled himself around, back toward the cabin, he noticed that the mountains beyond to the west had disappeared in a layer of dark cloud.

"Looks like the weather’s taking a turn for the worst. Better get going. Still not too late in the season for a nasty storm." Jake had come outside while Logan was lost in thought and together they watched the wall of darkness extend down the mountain range. The two men parted, Jake heading for his truck and Logan for the cabin door.

"I hope that old piece of plywood in the bedroom window will hold if the wind gets any stronger." Anna was looking out the den window having noticed the gathering darkness outside.

"We should go and see if Max is back yet." Anna smiled at her grandson’s worried tone.

"Somehow I think Max can handle herself. She’s probably sitting by the stove right now with a cup of cocoa." Anna led the way outside, pulling up the collar of her woolen coat against the rain, now starting to fall in large drops. As she turned toward the Land Rover Logan noticed her stumble slightly and clutch at her left arm. Before he could reach her, she had sunk to the ground. Logan pulled up beside her, panic welling up inside him as he noticed her ragged breathing and the lack of color in her strained face.

Without thinking he had set the brakes of his chair and bent down to her, all signs of consciousness now absent from her frail form. He gathered her in his arms, his face lined in determination. The rain fell heavier and the wind whipped at the two huddled forms. Suddenly he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t drive the truck, there was no phone, no neighbors; sweat beaded on his high forehead momentarily before being swept away in the downpour.

He felt her face, cold against his chin, and snapped back to reality. He had to keep her warm and the truck would be a lot easier to heat than the cabin. Awkwardly he maneuvered them across the wet ground and tugged the rear door of the vehicle open. With the brakes of his chair set, he lifted her up onto the bench seat, struggling to keep her steady. When he was satisfied that she was sitting securely, he closed the door and let himself in the drivers door.

Quickly he turned the keys she had left in the ignition and turned up the heat and fan. Bracing his arms, one on the passenger seat and one on the driver’s, he hauled himself back onto the floor in the rear of the vehicle. He pulled her gently over so she was lying on the bench and placed the folded blanket she kept under the seats beneath her head as a pillow.

Desperately he examined her face for signs of consciousness. Her breathing was shallow and her face still deathly pale. When he held her wrist her pulse was weak, in contrast to the blood that pounded through his temples. He leaned back against the side of the vehicle, stroking her forehead with his hand and trying to gather his senses, all the time cursing his useless legs. He couldn’t get her to help so he would have to bring help to her.

Levering himself with his hands on the floor, he pushed his butt forward until his feet were wedged against the door. Reaching forward, he opened the door and immediately swore at his stupidity. The chair was at the driver’s door, out of his reach. His attempt to slide down to the ground resulted in him landing in a heap on the grass. The cold rain again stung his face as he used his elbows to pull himself forward to the wheelchair.

As he lay on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his legs sprawled behind him, he looked up at the chair above him. Even in the intense cold, he was still sweating while his arms burned from his efforts. Reaching up he slammed the rear door shut and pulled the chair around to a position accessible to him. He had hauled himself into it from the ground on more than one humiliating occasion but this time his arms refused to cooperate.

Logan felt a wave of helplessness wash over him as his arms gave out and he found himself face down on the cold mountainside. He forced himself to take some deep breaths. Breathing was good, . . . so was focus. Focus on the task and breath through the pain and frustration. He knew how to do this - he’d had plenty of practice.

His arms felt nothing as he pulled up and twisted himself roughly into the wheelchair. He cursed loudly as he forced his body to do his bidding. And it was going to do what had to be done. In his mind he set aside all his doubts and self-pity, casting them to the wind, now whipping ferociously into his face as he started off for the trail to the farmhouse. All he allowed himself to feel was his anger, using it to focus on his mission, to ignore anything that got in the way. He knew how to do this - he’d had plenty of practice.

Max was running along the side of the road now, wet and miserable but with an inexplicable sense of urgency spurring her on. The top of the headland had been within easy reach when she turned to survey the scenery around her and noticed the storm moving rapidly toward Canalee. She had been so focused on reaching the summit she hadn’t noticed the changing weather conditions, the smell of rain heavy in the air and the subtle air movement signaling the approaching storm front.

She was tempted momentarily to continue upward but instead began retracing her steps toward the narrow coast road winding far below her. By the time she was half way down the rain had started, slowing her progress as the grass became increasingly slippery under the soles of her running shoes. Damn - she should have brought hiking boots on the trip. Now she was going to get drenched, and the feline in her baulked at the prospect.

So, she found herself moving rapidly along the roadside, having to hold herself back from attaining the speed she was capable of. She dared not risk exposure and, even in this remote location, you never knew who might be watching. Anna didn’t need to know her grandson was traveling with an excuse for Wonder Woman, or the Bride of Frankenstein for that matter. Anyway, she couldn’t get any wetter, the cat in her would just have to hold back and chill out.

She was thankful for her restraint as she heard the pick up truck approaching from behind. Stopping and standing over to the edge of the road, she wasn’t surprised when the driver pulled up and rolled his window down. "You’re Logan’s friend aren’t you?" The question did surprise her, but in a little community like Canalee gossip was a more reasonable explanation for the driver’s knowledge than Manticore agents tacking an X5 to the middle of nowhereville.

"I’m Jake. I was with Anna and Logan earlier out at the old Richards cabin when the storm started to come in." Max was around to the other side of the truck and in the passenger seat before he had finished telling her the washed out bridge to the north had forced him to come back.

"They were still there when you left?" His nod served to confirm the sense of danger she had been denying up until then.

By the time they reached the cabin Jake felt like he was reliving the brief time he had grudging spent in the military forty years previous. In fact, his old drill sergeant was beginning to seem like Mister Rogers compared to this girl. Once she had checked that the Land Rover was not at the farmhouse, he had been under orders to gun it to the cabin. How she had managed to get the truck unstuck from the mud bath at the entrance to the private roadway he was not about to ask. Her reaction when informed the truck didn’t have four-wheel drive was enough to stop him from approaching his self appointed CO with a direct question of any sort.

At the sight of Anna’s vehicle sitting outside the small building with the engine going Max was off and running. Within seconds she had assessed the situation. Anna needed to get to a hospital and Logan was nowhere to be seen. The narrow tire tracks leading to the trail confirmed her immediate suspicion of the course of action he had chosen. He had gone to get help the fastest way possible.

Max stood in the pouring rain knowing what she should do but unwilling to make the decision. She jumped as suddenly she felt Jake shake he gently by the elbow. "Max, we’ve got to get Anna to a doctor right now."

Her eyes cleared as she focused on the man in front of her. "Take the Land Rover. It’ll get you back onto the main road. Send help as soon as you can."

Jake quickly headed toward the vehicle, turning back to her before he climbed in. Only with her enhanced hearing could she make out what he was yelling above the howling wind. "He’s probably fine just get him back to the cabin and sit tight. You’ll never be able to get the pick up through the mud on your own."

Max nodded, agreeing with the latter part of his statement, without a driver no amount of strength would get the pick up through. As for Logan being OK - she was on the narrow trail barreling through the forest before her mind could accept the improbability of that being true.

Logan had done enough running in his life to understand about walls. In high school, long distance running had been his thing, and he knew how to push through the exhaustion until it was gone from his mind. He did the same now, willing his body to comply; controlling his breathing, concentrating on gaining ground one stride at a time or, in his case, one revolution at a time. His arms no longer burned or ached, they simply pushed him toward his goal.

At least the dense evergreens along the trail afforded some protection from the raging wind, though the rain still managed to come down in sheets blinding him. He had tried removing his glasses but it didn’t help, the force of the rain making him squint in order to see anything on the path ahead. He wore the spectacles now and kept his eyes on the ground directly before him. The boardwalk had ended a few meters back and he needed all the help he could get to navigate the path beneath his wheels. Carefully he maneuvered around exposed tree roots and storm debris, while trying to keep his speed steady and his arms pushing in a regular motion.

He swore as his progress came to an abrupt halt, the path ahead blocked by a large tree limb. One end had partially crashed through the low wooden fence separating the trail from the ravine below while the other rested on the wooded hillside to his right. In its present position the chair wouldn’t fit under it, if he could lift it slightly maybe he could shift it enough to make it fall completely to the ground. After that, well he could crawl over it and pull the chair after him if that’s what it took.

He wheeled toward the fence, the branch at that end being at a height affording him the most leverage from his seated position. Applying the chair’s brakes, he leaned forward to grab hold of the limb. Before his hands even made contact, its weight shifted as the fence finally gave way to forces too strong for it to resist.

Logan had had the earth pulled out from under him enough times to know he was in trouble. His hands shot to the wheels as he tried to pull back but mass and gravity combined to rob him of the seconds he needed. As the branch launched down the steep hillside it clipped the footrest of the chair toppling it toward the valley.

He barely felt the first impact with the ground before his body was crashing down the side of the ravine. The final impact he felt in every bone of his body as his left shoulder and side made contact with the trunk of a large pine. Then he was falling again, gaining momentum, with the increasing slope of the hillside. Frantically he grabbed for anything to slow him down, but by now the ground was mud and what sparse vegetation there was on the steep incline was slick with moisture.

Below him, the stream had crashed out of its narrow bed, sweeping away everything in its path. He could hear it pounding through the narrow valley bottom, over the sound of the wind and rain. His right hand suddenly made contact with a tree root and he was holding on, his body no longer falling, but pressed into the shifting soil of the hillside. The noises echoed around him in the background, like a storm rampaging beyond the windows of his penthouse.

Looking up he could see his hand. Drops of rain ran between the white knuckles, as his fingers tightened their grip. He was trying to bring his other arm up to increase his hold but that was taking forever. Meanwhile the drops continued their journey over the back of his hand, running into each other, meandering down toward his wrist.

Even the pain was far away, somehow separate from himself. His other hand was attempting to grasp the root now, blocking his view of the tiny river trickling toward the cuff of his coat. It didn’t really matter, he was loosing interest in it anyway. His eyes closed for a moment, the blink seeming like an eternity. He just needed to rest. He could have, but a familiar voice was yelling at him, ordering him to hold on. He gasped as the pain hit him, used it to tighten his hold, but his weariness was threatening to overwhelm him.

Logan heard her calling to him somewhere in the distance. Why didn’t she just come in, like she usually did. Maybe he’d locked the door, he couldn’t remember. Since when would a locked door deter Max from getting what she wanted? He’d just stay where he was and wait until she sauntered around the corner of his office. If he could just stay awake until then, . . . he was sure there was something important he had to tell her.

She started yelling as soon as she saw him. From the final bend of the boardwalk, she had scanned her surroundings and seen him clinging to the side of the ravine in the distance. She held nothing back now, running flat out, testing even her limits. At the sight of the wheelchair, half hanging over the side of the hillside she stopped motionless, before angling her body sideways down the sharp incline.

Her feet hit the big pine first, in an effort to control her descent. Then she was scrambling downward again, headed for the spot she had pinpointed on the hillside, utilizing her feline abilities to maintain any semblance of balance. Finally, she could see him a few yards down and to her left. His forehead rested against his extended arms, and his long fingers clasped the exposed tree roots. He lay still, totally immobile, while the world around him danced in a frenzy. She restrained the urge to call out to him; afraid a sudden movement on his part might break his tenuous hold.

As she started to close the gap between them, she noticed the motion immediately. Fingers straggled lifelessly over the gnarled roots as his body began to slide. Before his fingertips had completely cleared the wood she pounced, clutching the back of his jacket with one hand and grabbing for the roots with the other. She had him securely in her grasp but the other hand closed on nothing. All she could do was hold on to him as they fell toward the water tearing through the valley floor below.

The impact slammed his body into hers, knocking the air out of her lungs. Desperately, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist from behind and used her legs to try to find some purchase on the riverbed, but her strength was no match for the torrent that swept them along.

The muscles along the side of her body screamed as she lurched upward with her left arm, grasping for the tree branches overhanging the stream. Her legs and other arm wrapped around Logan’s body securely as she focused on a large limb jutting out ahead. As soon as she felt the contact she closed her hand, ignoring the pain as the rough surface of the pine sliced through skin. She held steady as the branch bent with the force of the water and swung them toward the side of the valley wall. Bringing her feet up against the bank, she pushed as hard as she could, while at the same time pulling up on the limb with her arm. Moments later they landed in a tangled mess by the side of the stream.

Max lay there on her side, legs aching from the exertion and her body finally registering the intense cold. In the sudden stillness, she realized her arms, still securely wrapped around Logan’s waist, were shaking violently. Within seconds, she was sitting up and had rolled him gently onto his back. He was shivering uncontrollably and, even in the semi-darkness surrounding them, she could see the waxy pallor of his face.

"Max." His voice was weak and unsteady, but she smiled into the deep blue eyes squinting to bring her into focus. His glasses were nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, we’ve got to get you inside and warmed up." She hooked her right arm under him, helping him to sit up.

"I can do it." He tried moving his arms to support himself, his efforts stiff and uncoordinated. Under other circumstances she would have been rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, but Manticore medical training had covered the effects of hypothermia on the genetically unenhanced, and she knew she had to act quickly. Scanning the slope above them, she was relieved to see the hillside was gentler here and had some vegetation she could use to help pull them up to the trail above.

She felt him trying to resist, and hesitated as she caught hold of him in preparation for carrying him in a fireman’s hold. "Logan, just let me do the driving for once." Her voice was as uncompromising as the look in her eyes. If he continued to fight her she couldn’t tell, his movements were too weak and she was halfway up the side of the valley before she even thought to worry.

She was making rapid progress, under the circumstances, her every movement precise, efficient, and controlled. Within minutes, they were back up on the trail and headed for the cabin. The farmhouse wasn’t an option; she was unwilling to risk taking the extra time to get there. When she came across the toppled wheelchair she swung him gently into it, almost wishing he was still griping at her. Instead, he seemed confused, barely registering the movement. Settling him back carefully into the seat, she noticed how shallow his breathing had become.

She stumbled a couple of times before they made it to the boardwalk. Taking a deep breath she resumed her mission, ignoring the fear threatening to engulf her, letting instinct and training take over, putting all other thoughts aside.

Max burst in the door of the cabin and turned to pull the chair in after her. She had wasted precious time getting the pick-up running, hoping they could wait in the warmth of the cab, before discovering the gas gauge was sitting on empty. Now her actions were taking on a renewed sense of urgency. Slamming the door closed with her foot, she scanned her surroundings, the old space heater pushed back into a corner of the den immediately catching her attention.

Leaving the wheelchair, she ran to the bedroom. The smaller room would be easier to heat, but an icy blast coming through the shattered window hit her full in the face as soon as she opened the door. Quickly, she searched through the small built-in closet, grabbing its only contents, a light summer-weight blanket.

Back in the den, she fidgeted with the butane heater until the flame caught and the heating grid started to glow orange in the darkness. In the growing light, she noticed two pillar candles on the mantle and lit them off the heater, ignoring the intense heat radiating toward her fingertips. Leaving them on the floor, she turned hesitantly toward the chair still sitting in the middle of the room. Her breath caught as she saw the bluish white tint of his face and the stillness of his body, all signs of shivering absent.

When her hand touched his, she flinched at the coldness of his skin. She struggled with his jacket, Logan too far gone to help. If he was conscious of her actions at all, it was impossible to tell. His head lolled to the side and his breathing was difficult to hear over the rapid beating of her heart. Her movements became more desperate as she continued to pull off his soaked clothing.

Once his undershirt hit the floor she lifted him gently to the sofa and pulled the heater as close to it as she dared. Cursing, she fumbled with the laces of his boots before frantically stripping off the remainder of his clothes. She covered him quickly with the blanket and ran to gather the few dustsheets draped over the sparse furnishing in the room. Flinging them over him also she hesitated, seeing the red stain on the faded white fabric. Realizing it was her blood seeping from the cut on her hand, she ignored it and went in search of any other coverings that may be in the cabin. There was nothing.

Ripping his t-shirt into a make-shift bandage, she wrapped it around her left palm, before starting to strip off her own clothing. As her jacket and sweatshirt fell on top of the heap of sodden clothes on the floor, she felt a trickle of warmth down her face and realized she was crying. Giving into her desperation, she found herself sobbing as she stood naked, looking down at Logan. His face seemed so still, lacking the strength and energy that usually defined him.

Her fear was as tangible as the cold enveloping her own body. Quickly she scrambled under the covers and wrapped herself around him, careful to move him as little as possible. If she could keep him warm and still until help arrived, he would be alright. Her mind clung to that though as she felt the slow beat of his heart against her breast.

“Logan, come on damn it.” She found herself willing him back to consciousness as she felt the warmth building between their bodies. There was nothing else she could do but sob a prayer to a God she doubted saw her as one of his creations.

Logan found himself walking slowly along the stony beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves breaking onshore surrounding him. Above him, the sky was spring blue and decorated with wisps of clouds. Pale sunlight bathed everything around him. He could feel its delicate warmth on his face and arms and on the wave-rounded stones beneath his bare feet. The light fabric of his pants brushed against his legs with every step he took.

Max walked beside him, their thighs and hips touching now and then as they struggled to find their footing on the uneven surface. Her fingers intertwined with his, soft and strong in his grasp, her inner arm lightly caressing his. She laughed lightly as she stumbled on the stones, grabbing his other arm to steady herself.

Smiling down at her, he brushed the windswept curls from her face, his other hand firm on her side. He could hear her soft breathing over the crash of the waves; smell her delicate scent amid the salt sea air. Gently he pulled her toward him, his arm circling her waist, both smiling as they drew closer. She lifted her hand to trace the side of his face with her fingers. He closed his eyes feeling the curve of her hips against him, the softness of her breasts pressing against his chest. Her scent surrounded him and he was drowning in her.

Then he was falling back into the darkness, powerless to stop its walls from closing in on him. He felt Max was somewhere within reach. He could feel her presence, smell her, and touch her softness and strength. Desperately he tried to fight his way back to the warmth and light but there were only shadows and the impending blackness, and the only things he could feel for sure were the cold and pain.

As soon as she heard the engine she was up and running for the widow. Headlights streaked though the bare trees at the end of the drive to the cabin. Returning to the sofa, she softly lifted one of the sheets to wrap around herself, relaxing into a sigh as she noticed the slight tinge of color to his face in the pale candlelight. She found her hand tracing the outline of Logan’s jaw as she wondered how much time had passed. They had lain there for what seemed like hours, though she knew, that in her panic, she had lost all track of time.

Jake was first in the door, followed by the paramedics who moved immediately to the sofa. “Damn phone lines were down. Couldn’t get help until we reached the hospital.” He was peering over the medics as he spoke and finally turned to Max when satisfied that Logan was in capable hands.

“Is Anna OK?”

He snatched the baseball hat off his head, clutching it in front of him while his eyes dropped to the floor. Max took a step toward him, alarmed by his reaction to her question.

“She’ll be fine. Mild heart attack they said. Of course I only stayed as long as it took them to get the ambulance crew together, but she was conscious by then.” He squirmed beside her, his attempt to back up blocked by the medics. In the glow from the heater, she noticed his scarlet cheeks while he continued to study the tips of his work boots intently. She tightened the sheet around herself, suddenly very conscious her attire, or lack thereof.

Logan was on the gurney now and she hurried to help get it out the door and down the ramp. “Jake. Bring our shoes with you.” Spurred into action, thankfully in the opposite direction from the mostly naked Max, he grabbed the footwear and valiantly piled the wet clothing on top. The object of his discomfort was accepting reassurances from the crew that Logan’s vitals looked reasonably good as they maneuvered across the threshold.

“Come on then.” In response to her order, his legs started to propel him toward the group. Before following the gurney into the back of the ambulance she caught him by the wrist and fixed him with a dark intimidating stare. “You won’t say anything about…” hers eyes flitted from her sheet to the clothing in his arms and back to his deer in the headlights expression.

“Not a word ma’am.” Two seconds later she was sitting next to Logan, leaving Jake to sit up front clutching the soggy evidence.

Logan didn’t want to hear it. He was almost tempted to count the floor tiles in an attempt to block out the doctor’s voice, a technique he had perfected in his mother’s hospital room in Seattle a lifetime ago, but that would require movement and today movement equaled pain.

“Definitely three ribs broken, maybe more. You can’t always tell from the X-rays, especially the ones our ancient equipment produces.” Doctor Eugene Ryan, the Richards’ family physician had always been a talker, which had been a welcome distraction when a sprained ankle or a case of poison ivy had landed Logan in his office during his summer vacations, but right now he wasn’t saying anything Logan wanted to hear.

“Should take three to eight weeks to heal….” He’d only have to lean forward a little from his present position sitting up in the bed and he would be able to see around the nurse supporting him. Right now just knowing the color of the tiles would be enough - off white, dirty white, cream, maybe even hospital green. “…No physical activity, no lifting….” The annoying voice kept droning on behind him as the doctor finished his examination of Logan’s injured back. “…Need to be careful…” He’d bet they were green. Closing his eyes he began to count. God he hated hospitals.

Before he was fully awake that morning, he’d known where he was. The unmistakable, indecipherable dawn sounds of hospital life had crept into his consciousness followed by the clinical, sickening smell. By the time he’d opened his eyes the feeling of nausea began to sweep over him, chased by barely caged panic. But these were normal reactions for him, almost reassuring in light of the pain he encountered when he tried to rise up. Once he’d heard his grandmother was all right he’d willingly given into the weariness the drugs enveloped him in.

Doctor Ryan was carefully tying the hospital gown closed. “That’s going to be one hell of a bruise down your back-looks like the tree won this round. Don’t think I’ll have to worry about you going against doctor’s orders for once but, in case you’re tempted while we have you tanked up on painkillers, just remember the possibility of doing some internal damage is very real. Still, it could be much worse, Logan.” At least he hadn’t added how lucky he was.

“Your girlfriend is wearing a hole in the floor outside.” The elderly man grinned as they settled Logan back on the pillows and his glower was replaced by a questioning expression. “I’ll send her right in.” He left Logan looking bemused, whether at the thought of Max mistaken for his girlfriend or the thought of Max pacing with him on her mind, Logan himself was beyond fathoming.

The object of his confusion breezed in. “So how are you feeling?” Her eyes bored into his, showing concern and, maybe, a challenge.

He bit back the emphatic “I’m fine” that had started to form involuntarily on his lips.

Max gave him a slight smile. “Your doc says what isn’t broken is bruised.”

“Yeah? Well there’s nothing worse than a physician with a sense of humor.” He had the presence of mind not to cringe as she shot him a glare. “Actually I think my little toe on the left escaped unscathed.”

“Well that’s OK then.”

“Yeah, that’s OK.” He scratched his neck, bad idea-that hurt. “Thanks for saving my ass …again.”

“We should be about even now.”

“So how’s the hand. Heard you resisted the idea of stitches rather …er…enthusiastically.”

“How’d you hear about that?”

“The good doctor is nothing if not indiscreet.”

“Well, a couple of butterfly bandages and it will be good as new by tomorrow. And no, I didn’t share that observation with him the old quack.” Max was definitely in good form; he shot her a relieved grin.

“Feeling up to busting me out of this joint? Just as a favor …I’d owe you.”

“Much as I’d like you to be in my debt, Grandma’s beaten me to it. Not only is she familiar with your aversion to hospitals, seems she kinda familiar with Bling.” Logan raised an eyebrow, that didn’t hurt - too much. “Caught her on the phone with him discussing herbal remedies and his trip up here to collect her heroic grandson.”

Should he laugh or be mad. Laughing would be a lot more painful and he didn’t have it in him to get angry with his wonderfully interfering grandmother. “Show me what room she’s in.” He had begun to swing back the covers, trying not to grimace, before he remembered the gown. No way he was wheeling around the drafty hallways in that unreliable garb, at least not with Max in tow. His eyes took in the room. “Where did they put my clothes?”

She was looking in the empty closet when the thought struck her. “Jake must have left them in the ambulance.”

“What do you mean?” Something in her face made him stop all attempt at motion, except for his jaw, which was falling of its own accord, something he had never seen before nor ever expected to see. Max was blushing.

“Get out now, before he changes his mind.” Anna propped herself up in the bed, her tone adamant. “I’ve agreed to flu shots for the next three years and being stuck here, no griping, for two more days until Helen makes it back home.” Logan was beginning to understand why Doctor Ryan had been quite cheerful when discussing his aunt’s and the rest of the family’s troubles getting back to Canalee. Storm damage and washed out bridges to the north had turned a six-hour drive into a two-day trip.

“He’ll discharge you into Bling’s care. Spend the night at the house and make a run for it in the morning before the old buzzard thinks twice about it.” Logan smiled at the strength in her voice and the rising color in her cheeks. “I’ve made a deal with the devil for you lad. You’d better not let it go to waste.” He thought better of laughing or suggesting that he had done his share of wearing the doctor down. When on her high horse his grandmother tended to ignore her sense of humor.

“We’ll stay at the house and visit until the family makes it back.”

“No Logan.” Her voice softened. “I don’t want you hanging around the hospital.” She shifted in the bed, sitting up straighter and patting down a stray wisp of hair. “Anyway I’m not the best of company right now. Eugene even suggested I was a bit cranky.” This time he did laugh, regretting it immediately, his grandmother’s expression and the broken ribs making for a rather painful combination.

Her face reflected her normal good nature as Bling walked in, towering over both of them, muscles bulging beneath an extra large t-shirt stretched to its limits. “Ready to go? Car’s out front and Max is hungry for dinner. Even she won’t eat the hospital food here.” He flashed a brilliant smile. Logan sighed; a cheerful Bling was more than he could handle right now. Anna, on the other hand, beckoned to the smiling man for a hug. “See you in the morning grandma, bright and early.” He released her from a careful embrace as Logan raised an eyebrow, this time oblivious to any discomfort it caused.

One look at his friend’s face and Bling decided to make himself scarce for a while. “Why don’t I get your prescriptions from the hospital pharmacy. Be right back.” Anna ignored her grandson’s expression, preferring instead to study the closing door.

“Grandma?” She continued to study the door as it shut fully. “He called you grandma.” The door could use a good coat of paint. “Exactly how long has he been calling you grandma?”

“Since I met him in the hospital in Seattle.” Logan raised a hand to lift his glasses, forgetting they were still missing, and rubbed his eyes, as if shielding them from the cartoon light bulb flashing above his head. It all made sense now, the phone calls on especially difficult days when the darkness was threatening to close in on him, the inquiries about his rehab when he had achieved a significant goal.

“You were discussing me, behind my back.” His head jerked up. Did he really feel the anger he heard in his own voice?

“He talked to me Logan, when you wouldn’t.” Her cheeks were reddening again. “When you were telling me you were fine and you were anything but. Be angry if you must, but there was no betrayal, and I will do anything it takes to keep you safe.”

“I’m not a kid who needs watching.”

“No, you’re a talented, vital, intelligent man who has always taken the weight of the world on his shoulders. You don’t have to Logan-you can share the load.” He said nothing, not trusting his voice at that moment.

Anna looked down, studying the sheets as she smoothed the cool fabric across her lap. “The first time I saw your father and Emily together was here in Canalee.” Logan’s eyes were drawn to the wrinkled hands now lying still and composed, palms down on the bedclothes. “Em brought him to visit during a spring break, when they were both graduate students. You should have seen them Logan, brimming over with drive, energy, determination, and so in love. Your grandfather didn’t even argue when they said they were getting married, said it would be like standing in the way of a tornado.” She laughed at the memory.

“What happened?” His voice was so low he hardly heard it himself.

“Life happened--career, ambition, deadlines, bottom lines. Emily said once she could have almost stood loosing him to another woman, but to see him slipping away to the company broke her heart. She was always his love, she knew that, but the company was his life and she knew that too. Not that she ever gave up on him, but after your brother died …well work was his salvation, or so he thought: a world he could control.”

“Like he tried to control me.” He could taste the bitterness in his voice.

“He never spoke of your brother’s death, … neither of you did Logan.” Her eyes sought his. “He can only control you if you let him.” She could hear his sharp intake of breath, but his eyes remained fixed on her hands. “He was right in one way though, all those times he told you not to waste your time. Don’t waste yours like he did, on arranging your life so nothing can touch you and the illusion of control becomes your reality. You have people who love you and want to be part of your life. You shouldn’t waste a minute, not a second.”

The familiar words echoed in his mind, only it wasn’t his father’s disapproving, disappointed voice he heard but Charlie’s. Charlie, standing with Case wrapped in his arms, declaring his love for a woman he might never see again. He leaned forward closing his hand around hers.

It seemed like the journey to his grandmother’s house had taken forever. He would have given into his exhaustion and slept if every rut in the road hadn’t awakened the pain the drugs were trying to dull. He would gladly give into his exhaustion now but his anger was wrapping around the pain like a fist, until he was wound so tight he felt he might shatter if Bling faltered and dropped him as he lifted him from the chair to the bed.

He tried to relax, to control his breathing, to make sure he was breathing. “Need help with that?” Bling looked from his face to the clean t-shirt he was mangling unconsciously in his grip.

“No.” His tone left no room for argument, not that that would necessarily deter Bling, however, his physical therapist knew when to leave him to own black moods. “I’ll go help Max in the kitchen then, or maybe it’s the kitchen that needs help by now.” He didn’t look at all surprised when his grin was not reciprocated.

Logan threw the shirt down on the covers and eased down onto the pillows. He should have turned off the bedside light first, he would welcome the darkness, but now he didn’t want to move again. His head was beginning to pound--he needed to relax, to clear his mind. Max--he would think about Max. Think about her looking devastatingly irate as they argued in the car on the journey up from Seattle. Think about her turning and waving to him as she jogged away from the porch, hair tossing in the breeze. Think about her fetching the chair so Bling could deposit his sorry butt in it when they pulled up to the farmhouse in the gathering gloom. Think about her trying not to notice that Bling had to push him up the ramp to the door. At least she hadn’t had to witness Bling helping him in the bathroom or lifting him, like an invalid, into bed.

He wished now he had accepted the doctor’s offer of sleeping pills. The painkillers had reduced the aches in his body to a dull, constant thud-keeping the welcome oblivion of sleep just out of reach. This wasn’t like the agony he experienced after the shooting or when his body started rejecting his only hope of becoming whole again. That pain seared through him until he couldn’t feel anything else, until it consumed him body, mind, and soul. This pain was closer to the surface, reminding him of his every failure: his father’s disapproval, Jonas’s barely disguised contempt, his mother’s loneliness, his futile efforts to save his grandmother.

Even his work was no refuge now, just an inventory stabbing through his mind of people whose lives he had managed to ruin along with his own. People who trusted him and who ended up on the run, living in fear of discovery, or as a body dumped in alley or even on their own mother’s doorstep. He was such an idiot to think he could make a difference; all he had managed to make was a tangled, bloody mess. He wanted to tell them all he was sorry, but sorry didn’t cut it anymore.

He brought his hands up to his pounding temples, almost welcoming the searing spasm in his back that accompanied the arm movement. Sorry-the word throbbed in his brain but it was Valerie’s voice he heard. ”Logan, I’m so sorry” she had said, as she took his money and left. Why should she be sorry? That was all he had to offer her. At least Daphne had never apologized. She had just disappeared from his life when she had outgrown her need for him. How long, he wondered, before Max disappeared. She’d stay as long as she needed a meal ticket and a source of information. In the meantime, he could be a friend to while away a lonely evening with-he had been a fool to think he could be anything more.

“You OK?” Max. Her timing was always lousy.

“I’m fine.” He was grateful his hands shielded his face from her. He made no attempt to move them, wishing again he had turned off the light.

“You don’t sound so good.” He could feel her approaching.

“I said I’m fine.” The footsteps halted at the foot of the bed. “Got a headache. Listen, I’m going to try to get some sleep.” He turned, reaching out blindly for the light switch. Bad move-pain spasmed down his back, flattening him back down against the pillows with a gasp.

“Logan.” She was at his side in an instant. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look in hers. It took her several heartbeats to reach out and touch the moist trail down his face. Her touch was so light-he thought it would take more to make him break.

“Don’t.” The voice he heard was cold and hard. She recoiled as sharply as if he had slapped her face.

“Logan, let me….”

He was glad she stayed back, away from him. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, you’ve got plenty for both of us.” Anger cut through her words. That was almost a relief, her anger he could handle. “It is easier for you if you’re in the chair?” The cutting retort that had been forming on his lips was lost in his shock at her coolly delivered comment. Her eyes locked on his. “Is it Logan? Nothing like adding a little steel fortification to the barricades, is there?” Neither of them moved. “It’s good strategy, but I can’t think why you want me around. Maybe you want to study my bio-engineered, military issued, armor plating. Maybe you admire it. Lucky Max she came with her defense system already installed-you’ve had to put so much time and effort into yours. Maybe you’re jealous of it. Oh wait, forgot you claimed to have found a beating heart under it. Must be defective huh?” She didn’t bother wiping away the tears running down her face.

“Max.” He raised up on one elbow angling toward her.

“Don’t.” She drew further back. “You can’t have it both ways. You want to sit around in your throne granting me an audience to the inner sanctum now and then, fine. I’m tired of you dismissing me like I was one of your subjects whenever you I get to close.” She turned and headed for the door, footsteps slamming against the wooden floor.

“Max.” He didn’t know what to say to keep her. His voice sounded as broken as he felt. “Stay with me …please?” She stopped in the doorway, her back toward him. He counted the heartbeats again until she turned and retraced her steps. Switching off the light she slid into bed next to him. “You won’t leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He counted their heartbeats, amplified through the old mattress, until he fell asleep.

“You’d better get a move on or the rolls will be cold by the time we get there.” Max was out in force this morning, organizing their departure, supervising breakfast, and trying to get a recalcitrant Logan out the door. “Here.” She thrust the plate of breakfast food they had prepared for Anna onto Logan’s lap and grabbed a couple of bags to load into the Aztec.

Rudely awakened from his reverie, he watched her march down the hallway and smiled. He had had time to think this morning as he lay in bed savoring the warmth emanating from the spot beside him she had occupied all night. Waiting until the door swung behind her, he deposited the plate on the telephone stand and starting to rifle, rather stiffly, through the drawers of the small table. His triumphant yell brought Bling running from the kitchen. “Quick,” he threw a small leather bound address book at Bling. “I don’t have my glasses. Look up a phone number … Walters, Jake.”

An hour and a half later, having said their goodbyes to Anna they were on their way home. “It’s going to be boring being laid up for a couple of weeks.” Logan broke the companionable silence. “Like to come over and help me go through my movie collection?”

“Sure. As long as you don’t try making me watch them in alphabetical order again.”

“No. Thought it might be better to go for a chronological approach.” Max rolled her eyes. “Let’s see, we’ve seen all the Jaws movies-they’re late 70’s. There were some good movies in the early 80s.” Max sighed. “There’s one you’ll love: Kathleen Turner, William Hurt … romance … intrigue….”

“What’s it called?”

“Body Heat.” The long silence that followed was less than companionable.

“So your little toe isn’t injured?” Logan decided the question was rhetorical.

“Smile and it will be.”

It was going to be a long journey and he was going to treasure every minute, every second.