A/N: Nothing new added. I just reformatted everything to make it easier to read. If you've read this, then go read its sequel, Forever Young. If you haven't, READ ME NOW!!

Some Kind of Intuition

By Jacquelyn Arnold

Chapter One - March 6, 2020

Logan's hands gripped the wheels of the wheelchair as he cruised down the sidewalk of Kingston Street on the way to Max's apartment. He hadn't heard from her in well over a week. Eight days, eleven hours, and roughly twenty-six minutes to be exact. But who was counting? Regardless, he was now officially worried about Max. His pages had gone unanswered, she hadn't been into work all week, and whenever she called her apartment, Cindy said she was sick and couldn't come to the phone.

He certainly believed the sick part. The last time he'd seen her, he clearly recalled her being pale and slightly shaky. She'd barely touched the grilled chicken Caesar salad that he'd made and was uncharacteristically quiet as she stirred her food around lifelessly.

At the time, Logan had planned to ask Max to do some very basic legwork, but after seeing the way she grabbed the edge of the table, swaying unsteadily as she stood from her chair, he instantly changed his plan and drug her into the guest bedroom, where she collapsed onto the bed with out the slightest fight. She'd fallen almost instantly a sleep as Logan had pulled a blanket over her curled form.

When he'd woken up the next morning, the only evidence that she had been there was the unmade bed.

So here Logan was, eight days, eleven hours, and thirty-one minuets later, knocking on Max's door with a bag containing a thermos of chicken noodle soup and crackers in his lap.

Original Cindy opened the door a few minuets later, he hair pulled back in a blindingly pink bandanna. "Logan. What are you doing here?" She asked wearily, showing no signs of her trademark attitude.

"Hey, Original Cindy." He said as rolled past her and into the apartment. He dropped the bag off food onto the counter and rolled towards Max's room. When he peeked inside and saw that the bed, and the rest of the room, was empty. He turned to Cindy, who was now sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. "Cindy, where's Max?" When she said nothing, he repeated himself with more intensity. "What happened? Where is she?"

Cindy sat up meeting Logan's eye, her eyes shining with tears. Wordlessly, she rose to pick up a white envelope of the counter. "She told me to wait as long as I could to give this to you." Cindy said as she walked across the room to Logan. "I'm sorry." She said as she held out the envelope to him.

Logan took the envelope and held it in his hand, staring at his name that had been scrawled across the front with a blue pen. He looked up apprehensively at Cindy who had resumed her spot on the couch.

Logan flipped over the envelope, and gathering his courage, he slid a finger under the seal and pulled out a piece of folded white paper. Slowly unfolding it, Logan read, absorbing the words as his heart shattered.


As you've probably gathered, I've left Seattle. It was the best thing for me to do. Lydecker would have found me sooner or later, and I was a liability to you for my sake, and for yours, please don't come after me.


The letter fell from Logan's numb fingers to flutter silently to the floor. Gripping the wheels with his hands, he pushed off, a wheel running over Max's note.

Logan wheeled silently out of he door, Cindy staring after him, wishing she could tell him the real reason that Max had left.