Remember, this story takes place between MITM and Brainiac.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

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The ride back across town was long, but Logan insisted on driving, lightheaded and exhausted as he was. He and Max were blessedly alone, Alec and Joshua having decided to ride the bicycles back. Logan was mildly disappointed that he hadn't had a good look at Joshua before they pedaled away. It had been hard to see much at all from his upside-down position over Alec's shoulder and they hadn't wanted to linger, knowing the Steelheads would return sooner or later. One of these days I'll get a good look at the guy, he thought hazily, trying to concentrate on the road ahead.

And besides, he was perfectly happy to be alone with Max.

Max was quiet, as she was so often these days. He'd expected a million questions, but once in the car she'd said, "Tell me all about it after we get out of here?" Now she seemed lost in thought, and he left her alone.

Besides, he was a bit preoccupied himself. He needed to figure out how to get Max to come home with him instead of splitting, like she did way too often these days.

When they pulled into his parking space and he shut off the car, she jumped right out. "Let me bring the chair down, okay?" she called over her shoulder.

"Sure. Leave me your phone?"

"Sure." Max tossed the phone into the car and headed for the elevator. He made a quick call, then settled back in the driver's seat.

The wait seemed interminable. He was half-asleep when she finally emerged from the elevator with his chair. As soon as he was out of the car she said,

"I'm dying for a hot bath, so I'm gonna blaze. Get something to eat and some rest, okay? I'll call you later." She turned towards the street where her bike was parked.

"Hey." How badly did he want to reach out to her? So badly that he had to fold his arms to keep his hand still. "You can't do that to me," he said lightly.

"Do what?" she asked, turning back. The conflict in her face -- the desire to stay and the desire to run -- was heartbreaking. He said gently,

"I've just had a huge adventure. I've got at great story to tell and you're going to leave me here with no audience? After all the times I've listened to your stories?"

"I'll call you."

"Not the same."

"I want a bath."

"More than you want to know about my night with a Channel 3 reporter?"

That got her. He had to hide a grin at the jealous curiosity in her eyes. "Well ..."

"Come on. You can take a bath any time. How often do you get to hear about my cat-burgling?"

She hesitated a few seconds longer, and then gave in, with a sudden smile so brilliant and beautiful it made him tremble. You did it, you talked her into staying, he told himself as they made their way to the elevator. Though his efforts to find "the machine" had been a total disaster, at least so far, here was hope, unexpected and beautiful. Max had found the courage to come home with him.

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Later, they sat in the living room, with the remains of a picnic dinner spread out on the coffee table, both still dirty and exhausted. The stories had been told, the questions asked. There had been some serious moments, some laughter and teasing. Now they were mostly talked out.

"Can we do something?" Max asked suddenly in the silence.

"What?"

"Watch the news? I want to see if there's anything, you know, about tonight."

In answer he reached for the remote control and turned on the set.

Sure enough, there was a live news conference at Metro Medical. Max recognized the hospital guy who had been in Grace's office the night before. He was answering a question. As he finished, the camera cut to the press crowded into a small room. A blonde reporter called out, "Can you tell us anything more about how the girl was found?"

"Oh, is that her?" Max asked, not very nicely.

"That's her. My friend Kara." Logan laughed at the expression on Max's face. It felt great to know that Kara Bennett had better stay out of Max Guevara's way.

The camera cut back to the podium, where a well-dressed man and a woman -- Isabelle's parents, she guessed -- stood beside Hospital Guy. And next to them was Grace, still in her jeans and T-shirt. Hospital Guy motioned Grace forward. Grace cleared her throat and said, "I received a tip from a source, a youth counselor, who needs to remain anonymous. Confidentiality issues." Max saw a big patch of white gauze and tape on the arm that had been bleeding in the alley.

Isabelle's mother stepped forward and added, "We're not interested in asking a lot of questions. We're just glad our daughter's back, and we're grateful for all Ms. Guerin's help." She smiled at Grace as Hospital Guy leaned towards the microphones and said authoritatively, "That's it. Thanks very much. Good night." Accompanied by the parents and Grace, he turned away from the podium.

Immediately the camera cut back to the blonde reporter, who announced breathlessly, "As we've been reporting this evening, the runaway patient from Metro Medical, thirteen-year-old Isabelle Tyler, has been found and is safe. A Channel 3 news team just happened to be on the scene when Grace Guerin, a staffer at Metro Medical ..."

"It worked," Max said in a wondering voice, and Logan quickly turned down the volume.

"Seems that way," he agreed. "No exposure to you or anyone else. Think she'll tell anyone?"

"No," Max said. "That little taste of transgenic life was definitely more than enough for her. She'll want to get as far away from it as she can."

"You were right. She didn't have a clue how to take care of herself out there."

"Of course not," Max sighed. "She's not a soldier, she's just a rich kid -- no offense --"

"None taken," Logan said with a straight face.

"And she's thirteen. She's naive. She just went home with those Steelheads when they found her on the street! She was careless with her barcode! White would have found her in no time." Max was beginning to look upset again.

"It's over. She's home," Logan soothed her.

"Which is what Isabelle wants. And she'll be better off this way. She really will." Max sighed. On screen, the camera showed the group leaving the conference room. A crowd of hospital personnel stood outside the room, and Max saw someone familiar step out of the crowd and walk next to Grace. "Is that Sam?" she asked.

"Yes. While you came up here for the chair, I gave him a call and asked him to take a look at her arm. That alley was disgusting."

Max smiled. "Good idea," she said. He smiled back.

The doorbell rang.

Logan was clearly exhausted, so for security's sake Max answered it, not quite sure what to expect. To her surprise it was Alec, cleaned up, but sporting a bruise on his jaw. "Looks like one of those Steelheads landed one on you. Come on in," she invited.

Alec rubbed his jaw. "No thanks. I've got plans for tonight. Just stopped to drop this off." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small envelope.

"What's this?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. Looks to me like some kind of microchip. It was lying on a table in the Steelheads' place, and somehow it ended up in my pocket during the fight."

"Isn't that strange," Max agreed, hiding a smile.

"Yeah," said Alec cheerfully. "Anyway, it's not the kind of thing I can, uh, dispose of through any of my connections. So I thought maybe one of you two could use it."

Max opened the envelope and saw a chip that looked, to her at least, a lot like the one she'd once stolen for Logan. Now she did smile. If he could use it, they'd save some money repairing the exo. Money they could put towards searching for a cure.

"Thanks," she said. Her gratitude seemed to put Alec in a big hurry.

"Well, I'm late. Night," he said, turning to the elevator. Max saw he was carrying what appeared to be flowers wrapped in paper. What the hell? She couldn't resist calling after him, "Must be a pretty hot date."

"What? Oh." Alec waved the flowers. "Not mine. I don't need bribes."

"So what's it for?"

"Sorry. Sworn to secrecy."

Max shrugged. "Be that way," she returned, closing the door. She didn't need to beg. She could find out at work on Monday. Envelope in hand, she returned to the living room.

"Hey, look -- " she began. But Logan was sound asleep, still in the chair. She smiled. Carefully, so carefully, she reached out and shook a wheel. He opened his eyes.

"Go to bed," she said softly.

"Okay," he said with a sleepy smile. "Good night."

"Night."

He rolled out of the living room, yawning. She watched him go, then quietly placed the envelope on the coffee table and let herself out.

Now she was going home to have that bath.

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Walking down the hall to her office, away from the blinding camera lights, Grace began to yawn so hard her eyes filled with tears. She just wanted to sit in her office and not move for a little while, at least not until she had the energy for the bus ride across town. She wanted a bath, but Sam Carr had forbidden her to wet her arm -- which now had five stitches in it -- and she was too tired to rig up some kind of covering. She could get to that tomorrow.

Another huge yawn seized her and when her vision cleared, Alec was standing there. She was too tired to be startled. "Don't you people have audible footsteps?" she asked, half-smiling.

"No," Alec answered, perfectly seriously. "We're made to sneak up on people."

Grace yawned again. "What's up? Nothing else is wrong, is it?" She wasn't sure she had the energy to care if it was.

"Not as far as I know. I'm going out tonight," Alec said. "I'm just here in my official capacity as a Jam Pony messenger."

"Why?" Grace asked, mystified.

"From an admirer." Alec handed her a bundle of florist paper with a small card attached. With trepidation Grace opened the card and read,

" 'Well done. Reagan Ronald.' " She looked up at Alec, confused. "Who's that?"

"My boss," said Alec wryly. Grace's jaw dropped.

"You're kidding," she groaned. "Is this for ... I mean, because I yelled at Max ..."

"When I got the bikes back to Jam Pony, he was watching the live coverage of your heroic rescue. Bet you'll have all kinds of fans coming out of the woodwork by morning."

And then, to Grace's complete surprise, she began to laugh. The situation was just too funny. So this was what it all came down to, her great romantic pretensions: this absurd, touching bouquet of flowers from a total stranger. You wanted to be a hero, you are one, she thought. She couldn't stop laughing. Every time she began to calm down, the laughter would rise up from someplace deep inside.

Alec watched her patiently from the doorway. Finally Grace managed to say, "This is sweet. But I can't accept it. I'm not what he thinks I am."

"I'll say you're not," Alec agreed, and that set Grace off again.

"Excuse me," said a man's voice from the doorway, and Grace looked up to see Isabelle's father standing there. That sobered her. "Mr. Tyler, is everything all right?" she asked, setting the flowers gently on the desk.

"Yes, fine, thank you. I stopped by to see if there's anything you need. Could I have my driver take you home tonight? We'll be staying here so it's the least we can do."

Grace started to say no, but over Tyler's shoulder Alec made a face at her. He's right, Grace thought. I should take the ride. "Thank you very much, I would appreciate that," she said. Alec winked at her approvingly.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to leave," he said politely. He motioned at the flowers. "Just keep those. I'll, uh, make the rest of it go away."

"Thank you, Alec," Grace said, meaning it. He nodded cheerfully and was gone. Grace saw Tyler staring thoughtfully after him.

"Who's that?" he asked, and then said, "Excuse me if that sounds rude. But he's quite attractive and I'm always on the lookout for new modeling talent. Now don't go and tell me he's one of your contacts in the church."

Grace couldn't have thought of a better excuse herself. She put a regretful look on her face. "I'm afraid so," she said. "I don't think his superiors would approve."

"No, I suppose not." Tyler smiled. "Good night, and take care of that arm. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything you need. We can't begin to thank you enough."

"You're welcome," Grace replied softly as he turned and went down the hallway.

She hated to take the credit, credit that really went to Max for seeing the truth from the start, and for rescuing Isabelle in the end. But she also understood that Max needed more than gratitude right now. She could worry about thank yous, or she could try to help Max in other ways. Like she had done tonight.

I don't understand, Grace thought. I don't understand how I can love someone knowing that he doesn't love me back. I don't understand how two people can love each other so much and yet be prevented from fulfilling that love. But this where we are. This is how it is.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A uniformed chauffeur stood respectfully in the corridor. "I'll be right out here whenever you are ready to leave."

"Thank you," Grace called back softly.

She was tired. She reached to turn off her desk lamp, then stopped. What was the name of that priest Max had mentioned? Destry, Father Destry. Grace wrote the name down and taped it to her telephone. Tomorrow was a work day for Father Destry, but Monday morning she could start tracking him down, let him know Max was looking for him. She had a feeling that the Father would remember Max very well. Who wouldn't?

Carefully, she slid her coat on over her sore arm, picked up the flowers, and turned out the light. Time to go.

THE END