Sad to say, but for the last time, thanks again to all those who have been so kind to review - you've kept me going with your enthusiasm!!

Very special thanks to Alaidh for all her work – this story is definitely the better for her 'betaing'. Thank you!!

Chapter 22.

By 2am that morning, Logan had arranged with his various contacts new identities and passports to match for both brothers, and thanks to Max, after buying some dye on their way home, different coloured hair to mask their previous distinctive blonde.

Standing back, Max surveyed her efforts with satisfaction, thinking they looked radically improved and less like something out of some old science fiction movie.

By 2:30am she was ready to escort them to a truck driver friend of Logan's who had agreed to take them with him, as his employees, across the border into Canada.

Zack had left earlier, after showing signs of restlessness as soon as they had returned to the apartment.

Logan had been busy at his desk organizing things for the two brothers, who were seated at the kitchen counter sombrely discussing the evening's events with one of Logan's pre-pulse bottles of wine to fortify them, when Max saw Zack standing by the huge picture windows, jacket on with the unmistakable air of one who was determined to leave.

"So, you're goin', huh?" she commented, walking over to him.

He looked at her seriously. "Yeah."

"Thanks for comin' back," she smiled with a touch of sadness. It hurt to think they could never be a family and be together.

Zack stared at her perfect features, feeling the same fear for her that he always felt when he left Seattle. How long would it be before her past caught up with her; how long would it be before Lydecker found her?

Part of him envied the life she had here in Seattle, but the other part of him could only see the danger it presented to her.

If only she'd never met Logan Cale, maybe things would have been different.

As if aware of what was in his mind she said quietly, "What? No 'get out of Seattle' speech?"

He shrugged, reminded of the time they'd stood in this exact place and she had refused to even consider the option of leaving Seattle and her 'miracle boy.' He realized he'd done her an injustice that night – it hadn't been about Logan walking.

"Would it do any good?" he asked yet again, berating himself in the same instant for allowing the tiniest bit of hope to creep in.

"Just don't leave it too long between visits," she told him.

Zack nodded, masking his disappointment. He'd been stupid to hope she'd do the sensible thing.

He could see Logan's reflection in the window as he sat in front of his computers with the phone to his ear, intent on whatever he was doing, and he felt the resentment rise unbidden. It was hard to see past the fact that her, and he struggled with the word 'love', for Logan, could be instrumental in getting her killed.

He still had one string to his bow.

"What about Logan? Lydecker's after Eyes Only now – you think staying around here is safe for him?"

Her eyes flew to his face, and he cringed inwardly at the sudden flicker of something like panic he saw reflected in the rich chocolate eyes.

"All the more reason for me to stay," she told him abruptly, eyes returning to the rain.

Zack nodded, a touch fatalistically.

"I'll be seein' you," he murmured, and before she had a chance to reply, he quickly walked to the door.

Logan looked up on hearing the door close and twisted around to see Max standing alone by the window.

He watched her thoughtfully for a moment, then, unlocking his brakes, he spun around and wheeled over to her.

"Zack's gone huh?"


"I shoulda thanked him before he left," remarked Logan, thinking privately to himself that Zack probably wouldn't have wanted it.

"I think there was only one type of thanks he would have wanted," mused Max a trifle darkly, unknowingly echoing his sentiment.

Logan looked up at her. He had wondered if that's what Zack had been urging her as they spoke.

Max turned to him and shrugged, as if shaking off her dark thoughts. "I'm not gonna put him in my 'bad books'," she said decisively, "I have too much to thank him for," she added, looking at Logan as she spoke.

He felt himself colouring a little at her words, and said hastily, 'I'd better finish organizing the papers for Byron and Phillip."


Logan had continued to work at his computer till 5am. The adrenalin that had pumped through his body earlier had left him feeling wide awake and edgy, so instead of going to bed when Max left with Byron and Phillip, he'd set about completing some unfinished business.

He'd been in a sound, dreamless sleep for about four and a half hours when he became aware of someone calling him.

Squinting through eyes still heavy with sleep, he was considerably taken aback to see his cousin Bennett standing over him.

"Bennett? What are you doing here?" he asked, not bothering about the fact that his tone sounded less than inviting.

"Bling let me in," explained Bennett, apparently not offended by Logan's cool reception. "I tried to contact you all day yesterday, so when I couldn't, I came over instead."

Logan nodded, wondering dismally what family event he was going to have to endure, unable to think of any other reason for Bennett's visit.

He put his hand out and felt for his glasses, putting them on before pulling himself into a sitting position.

He was beginning to feel remarkably uneasy.

"You look like hell," remarked Bennett conversationally.

Logan eyed him with mild annoyance. "You're the second person to tell me that when I've woken up lately."

Bennett grinned. "Was the other person a girl by any chance?"

"No," was the cold reply.

"You seem to get on well with Max. I just thought..."

"Well don't think. It's not like that between us," responded Logan quickly, wondering why he had to face all this when his eyes had barely opened.

Bennett just smiled at him. He wasn't stupid, but unlike his more mercurial cousin, harder to offend.

"So, you didn't just drop by to comment on my appearance?" prompted Logan.

Bennett's expression suddenly became serious. "It's about Melody."

Logan felt his own expression of careful indifference freeze, his mind searching desperately to find the answer as to how Bennett could have known about his involvement in Melody's death.

He was only half aware of Bennett's voice continuing on "... so Marianne thought it would be a really nice if you'd agree to participate in the ceremony at her funeral."

"What?" Logan said sharply, as Bennett's words finally penetrated his own babble of thoughts.

"It's today, two o'clock." Bennett took one look at him, then started again with exaggerated patience. "Marianne is helping Melody's parents organize it – they were just too distraught," he added feelingly.

Something stabbed hard at Logan. Not wanting to meet Bennett's eye, he kept his head down, intently studying the blanket he now gripped tightly in one hand.

"Marianne thought it would be nice if you would read one of the Bible passages she's chosen. She's trying to get an assortment of Melody's friends from the different phases in her life involved."

Logan's eyes flew to the door as if hoping for some sort of rescue from Bling, but when that didn't happen, he simply said very quickly, "I can't."

Undaunted, and probably expecting his answer, Bennett was prepared for battle. "All you have to do is just read 'one' passage and wheelchair access isn't a problem."

Shifting his stare to the two mounds that were his legs beneath the blankets, Logan made a hasty decision to get more sleep from now on so that he'd be prepared for situations like this.

"It's not that, Bennett," he heard himself saying.

His cousin had sat down on the edge of his bed, completely unperturbed by Logan's response. It had been the same when he'd asked him to be Best Man at his wedding.

Logan threw a quick glance at Bennett, wishing he were in his wheelchair so that he could simply turn away and refuse with his standard line of, "I've got work to do." It was so much harder to say, "No," directly to someone's face, and any excuse sounded all the more lame, he reflected, annoyed to find himself in this predicament.

"Bennett ..."

"And Dad won't be there," cut in his cousin. "You remember that old friend of his, 'Mac'?" As Logan nodded mutely, he continued, "Apparently he's got himself in some sort of trouble. The report is that he's the one behind those vigilante raids that Eyes Only was being blamed for. Poor Mel," he finished. "She really had 'that' one wrong."

Logan nodded again, wondering if his face was betraying him.

"So Dad's busy with all that. I think he had some investments in Mac's companies."

Bennett smiled at him, saying persuasively, "So you see, there's nothing to worry about."

Watching Logan, Bennett suddenly became suspicious, knowing that his cousin was always remarkably adept at hiding things from them all. "You 'are' okay aren't you? Of course, if you're not well Logan I wouldn't expect you to do this."

It was the perfect out. All Logan had to do was agree and he'd be out of the whole predicament, out of the situation of having to meet grieving relatives and friends and pretend he shared their loss. He just had to agree.

"No, I'm fine." The words came out on autopilot. It was his standard response.

Logan wondered why it seemed easier to face being thrown off a building as compared to having to manage a firm 'no' to his own cousin.


"Sorry about that," said Bling, popping his head around the bedroom door after Bennett had gone. "He was already on his way in to see you before I even had a chance to say you were still asleep."

"That's Bennett," grunted Logan, sliding into his chair. "He's crafty in a quiet sorta way."

Bling studied Logan for a moment, watching him as he settled himself. "Did he bring bad news?" he tried, well aware that Logan was doing his 'clam' impersonation.

"Nothing I can't handle," Logan responded curtly, pushing on through to the bathroom to take a shower.

Bling looked at the closed door with a resigned expression, then looked up, surprised, as he heard the doorbell. Logan didn't usually have a lot of visitors. Two in one day in the space on an hour was even more unusual.

It was with a certain amount of caution that he opened the door, but was pleasantly surprised to see Candy standing there.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Did you find your cat?" asked Bling.

Candy nodded. "It took me forever though and I was so mad at her by the end! Um, do you think Logan has any flour?" She held up a cup in her hand. "I'm half way through a recipe and just realized I haven't got any."

"Sure. Come on through and I'll get you some."

Naturally it took a while to find the flour, and then they had to discuss in great detail what recipe she was trying and the difficulties of having a strong-willed cat, (which Bling couldn't add to much, but he did know what it was like to have a strong-willed employer.)

Eventually Candy took her leave, and Bling was very surprised to find that fifty minutes had gone by, which made him wonder with a frown why Logan was taking so long in the shower.

He'd only just entered Logan's room when he thought he heard a clattering noise from the bathroom.

"Logan, you okay in there?" he called sharply.

The door opened and Logan came out, dressed in cargo pants and a t-shirt. "I just dropped something," Logan told him, then with a distracted air, turned around again to get a sweater from his wardrobe.

Bling followed him in, deciding he'd given Logan long enough time to stew. "You wanna talk about it now?"

Logan paused for a moment before he grabbed his thick light brown sweater and pulled it over his head.

Bling stood and watched him patiently while Logan silently pulled out a pair of shoes and some socks and dumped them on his lap, knowing better than to rush him. It wasn't until Logan had wheeled back to his bedroom that he looked up at Bling and told him what Bennett had wanted.

Bling let out a slow whistle. "Kinda puts you in a difficult position," he said sympathetically.

"'Difficult'? That's an understatement," he responded derisively. "If it hadn't been for 'me', she wouldn't be dead."

"Seems to me you didn't 'ask' her to get herself involved in all that went down," said Bling to him reasonably, smoothing the blankets while Logan put his shoes and socks on.

Logan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, considering his feet. He'd showered, dressed, brushed his teeth, even considered shaving, but all he'd managed to do was fill in time – he'd certainly found no peace or answer to the situation.

"I don't think I can do this," admitted Logan with a quiet honesty, briefly looking up at Bling.

Bling raised his brows at that, watching Logan press his thumb into the palm of his hand distractedly. He'd seen Logan struggle over many issues in the months he'd known him, but he'd rarely known him to admit defeat easily.

"You could always back out," suggested Bling.

Logan shook his head. "No," he said with a deep breath, "I don't wanna let them down, considering what they've all gone through already. The way I hear it, Marianne and Melody had become more like sisters."

'You've gone through a lot too in the last few days,' thought Bling looking at him.

Logan shifted his gaze to his hands, but the image he saw clearly in his mind was Melody's body lying on the floor, twisted in the unnatural position of a violent death, blue eyes staring with what would have been wide eyed terror as she beheld the face of her attacker in those final moments of torment.

Running a hand with frustration through his hair he snapped, "How do I do this knowing she was willing to make 'me' her news scoop?"

In his efforts to stop MacFarland he'd put aside all his emotions about Melody's death. It was easy to leave issues unresolved if you concentrated hard enough on something else, and he knew he was an expert at that. The only problem was they had a frustrating way of surfacing again just when you thought you were free of them.


He couldn't decide if his overwhelming sentiment was anger that she was willing to betray him, or guilt that in some way he'd been responsible for her death. Whichever way you looked at it, both left him extremely reluctant to meet those who had cared and loved her.

"Looks to me like you're stuck with it," remarked Bling, then continued mildly, "Why don't you take someone with you for moral support?"

Logan gave him a sideways glance, knowing exactly what he was suggesting.

"I'd go with you myself if I could, but I've got an appointment the other side of town at 2:30."

"It's fine, Bling," replied Logan. Feeling the need for some action, he unlocked his brakes and pushed through to the living area with practised ease.

"What about Max?" Bling suggested, following him.

Logan leaned forward and picked up one of the books that lay on his coffee table. "She didn't exactly 'take' to Melody," he answered, moving to the bookshelf to put the book away. "Besides, she's got work."

Bling's eyebrows rose skeptically. "That's never stopped you paging her before, and I don't think it would be Melody that she'd be going for," he pointed out to Logan. "It's worth thinkin' about," he finished, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like a subliminal message, before returning to the towels he'd been folding on the exercise table.

Putting the book away, Logan headed to his phone. It slightly irritated him that Bling could read him so well.


"Hey Bling. Logan around?" asked Max in some surprise when she couldn't find him at his desk or in the living room.

"Did you know he's been paging you all morning?"

Max made a face. "The batteries on my pager died. At least I think it's that. It's been playin' up on me all morning."

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted them and Max, who was closest, walked over and opened the door.

She was very surprised to see a dark haired, blue eyed, slim girl, perhaps a few years older than herself.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, one hand on her hip, her smile perhaps not quite as sincere as it could be.

"I just wanted to return this to Logan," replied the visitor, holding out a cup with what Max took to be flour.

"You do cooking classes together or somethin'?"

The other girl looked a little bemused, quickly hailing Bling with relief when she saw him coming towards her, behind the rather exotic dark haired beauty with the 'attitude.'

"Candy," smiled Bling, looking from her to Max, a flash of understanding in his own dark eyes.

Introducing the two young women to each other, Bling said to Max with a slight emphasis on one word, "Candy is a friend of 'mine' who lives in the building. She just dropped by this morning to borrow a cup of flour."

"Oh," popped out Max, cautiously allowing a tiny bit more warmth to her plastered smile.

"Are you still up for coffee tomorrow?" the vivacious brunette asked Bling.

"Nice, but a bit dippy," opined Max to herself.

"Looking forward to it," returned Bling, thankfully closing the door having said goodbye.

"So what was Logan blowin' up my pager for?" asked Max, quickly returning to their previous conversation. "D'ya know?"

Picking up his own jacket to leave for his appointment, Bling filled her in on Bennett's visit.

"What time is the funeral?"

Hopeful, Bling told her where and what time. "He had to be there early to run through what he had to do."

Max nodded. "How did he seem when he left?' she asked with meaning.

Bling thought for a moment. "I'd say he had his 'I've got it all under control' act on but ..."

It was the 'but' that did it for her. "Gotta blaze," she said, and was gone.


Max walked up the steps to the church with mixed feelings. She'd never been to a funeral before, and wasn't quite sure what to expect. On the other hand, she considered, it was better to be going to the funeral of someone like Melody Banks rather than someone she cared about.

Stopping at the doorway to look inside, a man passed her a booklet with Melody's picture on it. Max took it expressionlessly, then entered the church, her eyes searching to find Logan.

It was an old building, all stain glass windows, and wooden pews worn with decades of churchgoers and dewy-eyed plaster statues of people she didn't know who all seemed to be gazing soulfully heavenward.

Melody must have been popular, she mused, because with only a few minutes to go there was barely a spare seat anywhere, and people were already standing along the side.

An organist played a melancholic piece that accentuated the overall atmosphere of sadness that seemed to pervade the building.

Max could see Logan to the right of the front pew.

Seeing him there, she suddenly felt nervous. She had just taken Bling's word for it that he had wanted her there, and she'd rushed home and changed into her brown pantsuit without giving it another thought. Now she struggled with a nagging doubt – what if Bling had it wrong? What if Logan had been paging her about something else? Maybe he didn't want her here at all. For a moment she contemplated running; Logan need never know she'd been there.

In that instant, Logan looked her way and she knew with a lurch in her stomach that it was too late to escape.

She gave him a small smile, that was answered by a surprised one from him that made her own smile waver for a second until she saw him put his hand up and motion for her to come to him, and now she could clearly see a look of relief on his face.

"Bling told me," she whispered to him, as she sat down at the end of the seat next to his wheelchair in answer to his questioning look.

"Thanks for coming," he smiled back tensely.

She had no chance to say more as everyone stood at that moment for the beginning of the ceremony. Max's eyes went instinctively to the coffin in the center of the aisle, draped in an abundance of white flowers.

Looking to her left she could see who she assumed were Melody's parents looking at the coffin with strained grief-filled faces. No wonder Logan didn't want to do this, she thought, finding it difficult herself to see such naked pain.

She stole a quick look down at Logan, but not surprisingly he held himself well in hand, looking particularly handsome in a charcoal grey suit, but the way he rolled and unrolled the booklet of the ceremony told her another story.

Max listened with interest as the ceremony began, surprised to find the man in robes who led the ceremony not maudlin and sombre, but quite upbeat. He even smiled three times in his opening welcome. She raised her eyebrows at that. Perhaps it wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Not paying a great deal of attention to the words themselves because she felt nervous on behalf of Logan, she watched as one of Melody's brothers walked up to a microphone and lectern and began reading from what she took to be the bible. 'Five out of ten' she rated his performance dispassionately.

Next the she watched as the man in robes, priest, vicar, pastor whatever, she mused, did some more of his dealio, then she felt herself tense a little as he introduced Logan, as an old friend of Melody's. "He'll be reading to us from Paul's Letter to the Philippians."

Logan had already wheeled up a nearby ramp and onto the altar in readiness and Max was pleased to see Bennett himself come forward and hand the large book to Logan that had been on the lectern, and pass him the microphone, re- enforcing her earlier opinion that he was probably the only other decent male in the Cale clan.

For a second Logan's eyes met Max's, and then in a voice that was a little huskier than usual probably due to nerves, he proceeded to read:

"Finally brothers and sisters, whatever things are honest, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there is anything praiseworthy, think on these things."

Max listened. She'd always found the way Logan spoke attractive - there was something in the way he pronounced his words that was ... Perhaps because she was in a church the words 'sinfully sexy' came to mind. 'Whatever' she thought, holding back a smile and reflecting that he could read the whole damn bible to her if he liked as long as he read it like this.


"Thank you so much for joining us, Logan," said Mrs Banks, taking his outstretched hand in a warm clasp. "You've no idea how much we appreciated it. I know Melody always held you in such high regard"

Max watched Logan closely, amazed as ever that he could hide his emotions so well to so many people, but over the last few months she'd come to recognize the other telltale signs.

Logan managed to smile and murmur something appropriate back, before some other old friend that he hadn't seen in years accosted him, and he had to endure the polite questioning about his 'accident' and brush off their sympathy, then agree with them how tragic Melody's death had been and what a wonderful reporter she'd been and yes they'd all had such good times together.

Max stood by his side, for the most part just smiling hello and listening with interest to these people from Logan's past as he slipped into his other persona that was more 'Cale' than 'Logan'.

Max was just wondering how long he'd be able to keep it up when Bennett and Marianne walked up.

"Thanks so much, Logan," smiled Marianne.

"No problem," answered Logan, hoping they weren't going to ask him to do anything else.

"We're going on to the cemetery now," put in Bennett.

Logan nodded, sincerely hoping he wasn't expected to go there as well.

"Considering how bad the weather is ..."

The rain had poured down all morning and showed no sign of letting up.

Logan quickly put in for him. "You're right Bennett, wet sodden ground and wheelchairs don't mix too well."

"Well, everyone's invited back to our house if you and Max would like to come?"

"Ah, I've got quite a bit of work to do. But thanks."

Bennett smiled at him again. "Keep in touch," were his parting words.

Marianne stepped forward before she left, holding out a medium sized yellow envelope. "Melody's mom gave me these. I thought perhaps you might like to have them."

Logan looked at it and for the moment Max thought he was going to refuse, then he held out his hand saying with what Max noted was a cautious, "Thanks."

Once they'd gone, Logan let go a sigh of relief. "Let's get outta here."

"I gotta get back to work," excused Max.

"Will I see you later?" Logan asked.



"In here," called Logan, for once beating Max at her usual game of surprising him.

He watched her as she strolled into the living room, an admiring gleam in his eye.

"Hey," she said, pausing, waiting for his reaction, her mouth slightly turned upwards with the beginning of a smile. She had expected to find him entrenched behind his computer. It was his usual way of dealing with things.

Logan lay stretched out on his sofa, a few pillows behind him, hands linked behind his neck.

"Hey," he echoed, with a relaxed lazy smile.

"Watcha doin'?"

"Nothing much," he grinned back at her.

Max raised her eyebrows. "Since when did 'The Great Eyes Only' kick back an' feel good about it?"

He shrugged. "I have these relapses every once in a while."

Max looked toward the kitchen. "So what have you got me for dinner?"

Straight to the point as always where her stomach was concerned, thought Logan.

"It's in the oven staying warm – if you wanna get it out."

"Fine," she responded. "What've we got?" she sung over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen.

"Leftovers," admitted Logan, feeling a tad guilty.

Max swung around again. "First kickin' back, and now you're servin' me leftovers? You got a fever or something?"

"Is this bad?" he asked tentatively.

"Sounds like a severe case of normalcy to me," she admitted with a laugh, adding as an afterthought, "Not to be confused with Normal at work who's anything 'but'."

"Great, 'cause I thought we'd just eat in here tonight."

"Next you'll be tellin' me you wanna come to Crash later!"

"I don't think so," he answered, this time with a touch more of his usual dry manner.

"A girls gotta try," Max said airily, as she brought over the cutlery and glasses that Logan had left out for them.

Logan pulled himself up further, preparing to transfer to his wheelchair, but Max stayed him with one hand up as she waltzed back through to the kitchen. "I got it covered."

"There's some wine on the counter too," Logan called to her, vaguely dissatisfied with himself for letting her do it all, but at the same time feeling unaccountably lazy. He wondered if this is what she'd meant about some men looking for a woman to move their furniture. Maybe there was merit to the idea after all.

Max came back with the two plates that had been staying warm in the oven, and he couldn't help but smile to himself when she put her own plate down after giving him his, and moved the armchair closer to be nearer the table.

"What?" she asked suspiciously, as he hadn't been quick enough to hide his expression.

Recovering quickly, Logan answered, "I just thought it was above and beyond the call of duty for you to come to Melody's funeral this afternoon."

"No big dealio," she shrugged, but with a small pleased smile.

Logan studied his dinner intently before adding, "I just want you to know how much I appreciated it."

Max shrugged again, almost as uncomfortable with his thanks as he was in giving it, the difference being that she would think about each and every word and cadence for some days to come.

"So whatcha do when you got back?" she asked, pausing before taking another bite, and adding, "You know Logan, for 'leftovers' these are pretty darned good."

"The chef accepts your compliment, and offers you another glass of wine."

"Just a little," she accepted, adding, "So?" over the top of her glass.

She bit her lip ruefully while she waited. Couldn't expect him to take a holiday from saving the world and be honest with her all in one night.

"Actually, I finished hacking into Melody's bank accounts," he replied finally.

Max looked up at that. "And?"

Holding the plate in his left hand, she watched him as he began to play with the food still on it with his fork. Definitely too good to last, she added to herself.

"I got the goods on whoever was paying Melody," he admitted unexpectedly to Max.

"Wow," she commented with a double entendre.

He looked up at her quizzically for a moment, but could see nothing in her perhaps 'too' innocent expression.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" She wondered if he could make it three out of three.

"Probably nothing," he admitted, wondering how she'd take it.

"Logan, this gives you the chance to clear Eyes Only's name once and for all," she objected.

Logan nodded, leaning across to deposit his plate on the table and pick up his wine glass.

"I kinda liked what Paul said," he told her, watching as he swirled the wine around in the glass.

"Paul who?" asked Max, a little annoyed with how the whole thing was going. Just when I think I have him sorted out, he goes and does this!

"You weren't paying attention," he chided her.

Max gave him a 'what are you on about?' stare.

"At the church, the passage I read."

"Oh! 'That' Paul," said Max, now enlightened. "It was hardly the kinda stuff Manticore was big on," she added tartly, not mentioning the other major distraction had been his alluringly sexy voice.

"Guess not," he added understandingly.

A little self-consciously he brought the yellow envelope out from behind his back and tossed it onto the table in front of him.

"Marianne gave me these today."

Seeing his nod of assent, she put down her fork and picked it up, pulling out three photos. They were the ones she'd seen in the album at Melody's apartment. She glanced at Melody and Val, but it was Logan she studied. A younger Logan, still with messy hair and steel framed glasses, but it was his smile that was different, and for a moment she felt jealous that the two women in the photo had shared him that day.

Aware of Logan watching her, she looked up, and he unexpectedly smiled at her, and for a second, she saw something of the smile that was in the picture: wide, untroubled - even innocent. She wondered who or what had robbed him of that smile: the Pulse, Val, Uncle Jonas, Bruno Anselmo?

Anyway, for whatever reason, it seemed to be back tonight.

"So just what 'did' this 'Paul' say?"

"It's really kinda simple," Logan shrugged, wondering if she was going to shoot it down with her sharp Manticore wit. "Remember the good things."

Max went back to her thoughts when she'd left the hospital the morning after Logan had been drugged and he'd pulled through okay, remembering her own reflections that morning.

"You know, it's funny you say that, 'cause I kinda came to the same conclusion myself," she confessed, it now being her turn to feel self- conscious.

"I just figured there'd been enough mud slinging and," he paused, frowning slightly, as if reliving his decision, "I guess I had to decide which Melody I wanted to remember."

Max nodded.

"'So'," he emphasized, "I decided to go with 'that' Melody."

His eyes rested on the photo in Max's hand.

"Hey," grinned Max, "Maybe this 'Paul' guy knew a thing or two."

"Yeah," he replied, his grin answering hers. "'Maybe'."



A big thanks to all of you who have read and hopefully enjoyed! I'd love to hear the feedback in a review from anyone who has read this fic, (It may inspire me to write more!) My thanks in advance for all those who are kind enough to review!!

Thanks again to Alaidh - all your late nights have been very much appreciated!