Thank You Doctor Heinlen
By Otterstamp

A young girl cut through the inky black night, her pale hospital issue gown fluttering in 
her wake. Snow crunched under her bare feet, but she took no notice. Snow was the last 
of her worries.

There was a cry to the left and her head snapped in that direction. She instantly changed 
courses, opting instead for the right. She was careful not to step to hard to leave telltale 
footprints.

She paused in a clearing. The noise was all around her. The circle was tightening. She 
took off again as the sound of snowmobiles inched closer. Up ahead was the glare of 
headlights. She stopped short and turned around.

But before she left, something caught her eye. It was Catherine. She was trying to escape. 
One shot and she was down for good. Max's eyes widened and she ran towards the cover 
of the forest.

The present Max slid to the floor of her bathroom. Several stray tears trickled down her 
face and she angrily wiped them away. Weak, she thought. She pulled her legs up to her 
chest and waited out the violent convulsions.




Max rudely pushed her way through the masses of people congregated on the street. She 
held a package in one hand and her bike in the other.

"Hey!" cried a disgruntled man who Max had unceremoniously elbowed out of her way. 

His only response was to be flipped off and she disappeared into the crowd; she didn't 
even glance back. 

It was one of those days. She was weakened from her struggle with her body's flaw last 
night, and certainly wasn't in the mood to fight a complete stranger. She knew she looked 
like shit; Cindy and Kendra told her so. But Normal wouldn't let her off work and she 
needed the cash.

Finally Max found the address; a dilapidated pre-pulse building that was crumbling in 
more then one place. She sighed, made her way up to the door, and knocked.

A short, round man opened the door part way. When he saw Max, he widened the gap 
and smiled toothily at her. She held back a shudder as he eyed her up. 

"Here's your package," she said flatly, and shoved it at him. 

He took it with a grin and looked up at her. "Thanks, baby. You wanna come in for a 
while? Rest yourself?"

"I don't think so," Max replied as she turned around and walked away. The lack of 
sarcastic, smart-ass comments convinced her that she was more tired then she let on.

She grabbed her bike and turned it towards Foggle Towers. It was getting dark and that 
had been her last run of the day. There was no need to go back to Jam Pony and she could 
do with some sympathetic company in the care of a Mr. Logan Cale.

She wearily entered the building, still pushing her bike in front of her and entered the 
elevator. She closed her eyes as the doors shut and she was taken to the level of Logan's 
penthouse. Strangely, she thought she was getting more tired by the second.

She stepped out of the elevator and efficiently picked Logan's door before slipping inside 
and setting off to search for him. 

"Logan?" she called weakly.

"In here Max!" came his reply from the computer room.

She left her bike in his living room and dragged herself to him. He was on videophone 
with a pretty woman with long blonde hair and perfect white teeth. Max's eyes instantly 
narrowed as she stumbled over to where Logan sat.

Logan turned with a welcoming grin on his face, which disappeared when he saw Max's 
apparent weakness. He frowned, turned to the videophone, and addressed the blonde 
woman.

"Look, Keri. I have to go. Talk to you later," he said quickly, and shut down the 
connection before she had a chance to answer.

He turned to look at her, his face a mask of genuine concern and worry. She instantly felt 
better, and not just because he blew the pretty woman off to talk to her.

"Max, God. Are you okay?" he asked, not bothering to hide his worry.

She cleared her throat and blinked to rid her vision of the blurriness. "I'm fine. I think."

Logan narrowed his eyes, sizing her up. Reaching a decision, he wheeled over to her and 
gently took her hand. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

"Bed?" she asked, confused.

"You're obviously not feeling well Max, come on." He started to wheel out, dragging 
Max behind him, but she was going extremely slowly.

When they reached the living room, Max paused.

"Can I sit for a minute? I don't feel too good," she said weakly.

Logan gaped at her. This was pretty bad. He tugged on her arm a little to bring her closer 
to him. "Come here Max," he said gently. When she was closer, he quickly pulled her 
into his lap before she had time to protest.

But protest she didn't. She just sat there blankly as if she wasn't aware of what was going 
on. He pulled her closer to him and started to move to his bedroom. The movement 
seemed to snap her out of her trance and she looked up at him before deciding what the 
hell, and curling up on his lap.

He bit his lower lip in worry as Max wrapped hr arms around his waist as if she was 
clinging to a life preserver in the middle of the Atlantic. When he reached his room, he 
gently eased her death grip on him and easily picked her up before laying her on the bed.

He wheeled around, pulling her jacket off and her boots as she sat, not even thinking of 
putting up a fight. She was far too tired.

He piled several thick blankets around her and tucked her in, fretting whether she was 
warm enough. He quickly found a thermometer and placed it in her mouth. As he waited 
for the results, he filled a hot water bottle, grabbed a bottle of aspirin, and started boiling 
water for tea and chicken noodle soup.

When the time was up, he pulled the thermometer out and read it. She was at about one 
hundred and four, and climbing. His brow creased further as he shook two aspirin tablets 
into his palm and wheeled over to the bedside where she lay on her back, her eyes closed.

"Max," he said quietly. "Max, wake up, Hun."

She stirred and her eyelids fluttered open. She looked blankly at him. He held out the two 
white pills for her to see. "Sit up, Max. You need to take this aspirin."

She reluctantly pulled herself into a sitting position and Logan handed her the pills, 
which she took with a glass of water. He didn't like it when she dry-swallowed her 
medicine. 

At that thought, he remembered her seizures. He went to check if he had any 
Tryptophane and searched his medicine cabinet until he found a half full bottle.

The pot whistled and Logan made his way to the kitchen where he made two steaming 
glasses of tea. He rummaged in his herbs until he found horehound and various other 
home remedies that would help Max's... whatever it was she had.

As he stirred and strained the tea, he wondered what could be wrong with Max. He knew 
that the soldiers were basically immune to anything Mother Nature could dish out, so 
maybe this was another pest that came with the barcode. But Max had never mentioned 
anything like this before. She seemed to be extremely weak, tired, and had a high fever. 
She was also blinking a lot, probably to clear her vision. Whatever it was, Logan didn't 
like it. 

"Logan?" came a call from the bedroom.

His head snapped around and he practically flew into the room, nearly knocking the tea 
over in his haste. Max was sitting in bed, her hair mussed, her clothes disheveled, but still 
stunning. She looked very domestic, he thought. And she looked like she needed taken 
care of. That thought appealed to him, no matter how worried he was about her condition.

"Yeah Max?" he asked cautiously.

Her eyes were wide and scared. It seemed as if she had just woken up, though she hadn't 
been there more then twenty minutes.

"Just wanted to make sure you were there," she whispered.

It tore at his heart and he wheeled over to her. He pulled the covers up to her chin as she 
lay down. She caught his hand with her own and held on as she drifted off to a feverish 
sleep.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, as her breath grew more rhythmic.

His reply was to squeeze her hand and to push some stray strands of hair from her face, 
which was cool and clammy. She tucked her and Logan's clasped hands under her chin 
and curled into a ball.




When Max woke up, that was how she found herself; clutching to Logan's hand for dear 
life. 

Moonlight flooded through the large windows and spilled onto the polished wood floors. 
Logan was sitting in his chair and fast asleep, holding her hand tightly even as he slept. 
His expression was one of worry and concern.

She blinked a few times and sat up, still holding his hand. Next to the bed was a glass of 
tea on a hot plate. She picked it up and gingerly sipped it. It did soothe her dry and aching 
throat though, and as the blood-warm liquid trickled down her throat, she felt better. The 
mix of herbs, probably Logan's own, cleared her head.

She looked around again at the silvery-lit room. It was apparently Logan's bedroom, the 
master suite. It smelled like Logan, like sun-warmed pine trees and fresh mountain air 
and... she couldn't place her finger on what else, but it was great. She was sitting on a 
large king sized bed that had to be the most comfortable she ever saw. It was covered in a 
pile of blankets of which to keep her warm and there was a hot water bottle near her feet. 
Her boots and jacket were thrown haphazardly on a chair and a thermometer on the 
bedside table lay glistening in the light. 

A glance at the clock told her it was two in the morning. She hadn't slept for two weeks 
save for an hour nap that one day, and she was surprised to find that she spent from about 
six to two sleeping.

Memories of the previous night came back to her in patches. Getting off the elevator, 
finding Logan talking to that women on the computer, him turning it off and looking 
worried, him dragging her to the bedroom, her wanting to sit, and then her being in his 
lap and feeling warm, tired, and at ease.

Max frowned to herself. She couldn't remember the last time she was sick. It had to be 
something that Manticore had forgotten to make them immune to or some new illness. 
Even then, it was highly unlikely she would catch it seeing as her immune system was 
adaptable.

Logan shifted in his sleep and his glasses slid to the end of his nose. She grinned a bit at 
the sight. They were hanging by just his nose; both sides having slipped off his ears. She 
reached out and quietly took them off, laying them on the table.

He stirred some more and his eyes fluttered opened. He blinked a few times. "Max?" he 
asked sleepily. Something clicked in his head and he was wide-awake. "Max, are you 
okay? How do you feel? How long was I asleep?"

She smiled at him involuntarily. "Cool it, Logan. I'm fine. A little weak feeling and 
probably not in top shape, but in one piece. I just woke up a second ago."

He calmed considerably and fumbled for his glasses, quickly sliding them on, preferring 
not to comment on the fact that she was still clutching his hand. "So what are your 
symptoms?"

She considered it. "Weakness; extremely tired. My vision had been blurry, I felt 
extremely dizzy and nauseous. I don't know. I really can't remember."

"You had a very high fever," he said gravely, squeezing her hand a little. "I was worried 
that I'd have to take you to the hospital."

She blanched at the thought. Logan would be risking his ass if he showed up with a 
Chimera at a hospital. "I wouldn't want you to do that," she replied.

"Since when do I listen to you?" he asked with a trace of a grin.

She bit her lip to stop from giggling. Even ill, she couldn't help but feel better then she 
had in a long time.

"Can you walk?" he asked, changing the subject. 

She tested her legs by lowering them onto the floor and shakily standing up. Logan 
steadied her by the hand he was holding until she sat down.

"No," she said. "I think I'll fall." She paused as if the full meaning of those words hit her. 
"I never thought I'd say something to that effect," she said, sobering quickly.

Logan wheeled closer to the bed and patted his lap. "Hop on. The Cale express is making 
it's way towards an early morning culinary masterpiece and some warm cocoa."

She hesitated a split second, the scrambled onto his lap. "How can I say no to cocoa? My 
throat's kinda dry. And I could go for a sugar fix."

He chuckled. "I bet you could."

They wheeled into the living room where Logan again picked Max up and deposited her 
on the sofa where he covered her in blankets and stuffed pillows under her head.

"A girl could get used to this," she said as Logan handed her a glass of frothy milk. She 
eagerly gulped it down. It eased the scratching in her throat.

"Now for breakfast. I'll whip up something light. I don't want you to throw up all of my 
culinary magic if you have a stomach flu."

She grimaced. "Your right. Let's stick to light foods, shall we?"

As Logan whipped up breakfast, Max watched the sun rise over Seattle. She noted that it 
was hardly getting lighter. The sky that was replacing the night was a steely gray, almost 
as dark as night. Soon there was a distant rumbling of thunder.

Logan wheeled in with heaping plates of food and set the tray on her lap. She scooted up 
a bit and looked at it in awe.

"You've out done yourself. Again."

He shrugged modestly. "What we have here is," he pointed to various plates in turn. 
"Lightly beaten fluffy omelet with light cream and cheddar cheese with a hollandaise 
sauce on top, toast with butter, sugar, and cinnamon, some leftover ham from Tuesday's 
dinner which I fried in a cider sauce, and a hot glass of chocolate fudge cocoa. Don't 
waste it, that's stuff costs two bucks a cup."

"Wow," she said. She picked up a fork and pulled out a fluffy piece of omelet. She 
delicately bit it off the fork and closed her eyes. "Heaven," she pronounced.

Logan grinned goofily, obviously pleased at the praise. 

"How do you do it, Logan?" she asked as she sipped the cocoa. "How can you cook 
something like this up in five minutes flat?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I should have been a chef."

"And deprive me of my wonderful free meals? No way."

He laughed and wheeled over to the kitchen where he picked up his own plate and started 
to eat. He finished before Max and started cleaning up dishes. When he was done, he 
wheeled over to her.

"So how do you feel now?" he asked.

"Better, but still a bit feverish. I wonder what the hell I have?" she pondered aloud.

"I'll check it out for you if you like," he offered.

"That's a good idea. I want to know what I'm up against. Manticore kids don't get sick."

He nodded in agreement. "You try to get some rest and I'll do some searches."

She nodded, her head feeling heavier by the second. Max laid down and closed her eyes. 
The thunder was getting closer as she drifted into sleep.




A tremendous clap of thunder shook the penthouse and Max awoke with a start, bolting 
straight up. 

"Shhh," Logan's soothing voice said nearby. "Calm down."

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and settled herself into the 
comfy pillows and blankets again.

The room was dark save for the light coming in through the windows which was nothing 
more then a gray tint, one half shade lighter then night. Logan lit a few candles and set 
them around the room. It did nothing to dispel the darkness, but did make her feel warm 
inside. She always loved brownouts at Logan's.

"Power out?" she asked.

"Yep. How do you feel?"

"Better, a lot better."

"Good," he said. He wheeled over to her and placed the back of his had to her forehead. 
"You seem considerably cooler. And less clammy."

"Does this mean I have to blaze to Jam Pony?" she asked with a grin.

"Oh," Logan said with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "I took care of Normal. You 
should be off for awhile."

She raised an eyebrow and grinned. "How'd you manage that?"

He was about to answer when the phone rang. He wheeled over and picked it up. 
"Hello?" he asked.

"Yo," came a voice from the other end. "Whiteboy. Is my Boo there?"

"Hello Cindy," he said with a grin, glancing amusedly at Max. "Yeah, Boo's here."

Max grinned. 

"Well what the HELL is she doin' there?" Cindy asked in a good-natured, yet irritated 
tone. 

"She's sick."

"Hmmm hmm. I'm sure. You sure you two aren't bangin' it over there?"

Logan sputtered at the easy insinuation that he and Max were having sex in his apartment. 
"What? No!"

Cindy's voice was skeptical as she replied. "Yeah. Right. So then can I talk to her?"

He wheeled over to Max and shoved her the phone. She had a good idea what Cindy had 
casually suggested to Logan, and bit back her laughter at his flustered expression.

"Yo Cindy," she said into the receiver, shooting Logan a smile. He glared at her. 

"Boo! So what's goin' on with you and Whiteboy? Hmmm?"

"I'm sick and Logan's takin' care of me is all."

"Suuure," Cindy said. "Taking care of you. I get it."

Max sighed. No matter what she said, it would be taken as suggestive. "Yeah, yeah, 
yeah." 

Cindy chuckled. "So when are you going to be done banging Whiteboy?"

"I'm not-" Max started to say, but decided it was futile. "Forget it. I don't know, I'm 
pretty sick. Puking everywhere and a high fever and all. I barely made it to Logan's last 
night." She instantly bit her lip.

"Last night?" exclaimed Cindy. "So you HAVE been banging Whiteboy!"

"I have not," Max snapped. Cindy chuckled. 

"Well I wanted to tell you that works cancelled. They're expecting a huge rainstorm, I 
mean a killer."

"Well thanks for the update."

"No problem. Anything for my girl. I hope you... uh... get better soon, Boo."

Max scowled. "I told you-"

"Bye!" And Original Cindy hung up.

Max sighed and replaced the receiver. Logan looked flustered still. "What's with your 
friends?" he muttered.

She smiled. "They'll just make something up if life isn't juicy enough. I only wish it 
wouldn't center around me."

Logan smiled as well. "You tend to do that, grab the center of attention I mean."

She shrugged. "It's what I do best."

Suddenly there was a flash of lightening and another rumble of thunder. The two gazed 
out the window where a sudden torrent of rain instantly appeared. It slapped the windows 
with tiny pinprick thwacks and caused miniature rivulets of water to stream down the 
glass.

"It's really coming down," Logan said quietly. 

Max's reply was vague. "Yeah."

"Well do you want to know what I've found about your illness?" Logan asked, turning 
around and shaking him and Max out of their stupors.

"Hmm? Oh yeah."

"Basically," Logan said, wheeling to the table where he had a manila envelope filled with 
printed sheets. "There's absolutely no reason for you to be ill unless it's a certain virus 
called the heinlen virus. It's brand new on the market, discovered by a Doctor Jacob 
Heinlen."

He pulled out some files and handed them to Max to read. "It acts like a regular flu to 
normal people, but to your genetic code, it wreaks havoc. You should be off your feet for 
at least another three days."

She looked up from the papers to meet his gaze. "So it's a normal flu?"

"Yes. But to you, the symptoms are worse."

"No long term effects?"

"None." 

She sighed and placed the papers in the folder. "I don't think I can stay still for that long, 
Logan."

He grinned. "I figured that. That's why I got these sleeping pills. They should knock you 
out for about six hours at a time. And I have a wide selection of pre-pulse videos and 
trashy daytime television."

She smirked at him. "Well in that case..."

He pulled the coffee table closer to her sofa and stacked a few piles of books, a remote, a 
pitcher of ice water, a glass, and a bell where she could easily reach them.

"Logan," she said. "You don't have to do all this."

"I know," he said simply.

He went into the kitchen, the came out again with a plate of moist cakes. He set them 
down in front of Max and she eagerly snatched one up. She bit into it, her cheeks bulging, 
and asked, "These are good? What are they?"

"Queen cakes," he said. "Colonial recipe."

She nodded happily and snatched another one off the plate. 

"Max," a bemused Logan said. "I've never seen someone with such an appetite in my 
whole life." She couldn't reply, as her mouth was full of crumbs, so he reached out for a 
movie and looked at the cover. "How about The Sixth Sense?" he asked.

Max swallowed. "I've never heard of it. Is it good?"

"Very. I think you'll like it."

"Cool. Pop it in Logan, what are you waiting for?"

He put the movie in the VCR and they sat back in comfortable ease to watch the movie.




Max wearily tested her legs. It was the next day and she wanted to take a hot shower. 
Logan sat nearby, anxiously waiting to see if she needed any help. She grinned at the 
thought.

Max stood up and stretched, then gingerly took a few steps. She smiled.

"I can walk," she announced.

Logan smiled as well and handed her some towels. "Here ya go, Max. I'll order some 
dinner."

She made her way to the bathroom and turned the water on in the spacious shower. When 
it was a scalding hot, she shimmied out of her clothing and stepped in, grateful for the 
strong water pressure beating against her stiff back.

She lathered up her hair as she thought. It was likely she had some new sort of flu virus 
that Manticore hadn't anticipated, and she wanted to find a cure without going back like 
Brin had. When this flu had run it's course, she was going to start doing some of her own 
snoop work to find a supplement or medicine that would cure this flaw in her immune 
system.

As she rinsed her hair, she thought of how Logan was being so exceptionally wonderful 
in taking care of her. She certainly hadn't expected to stay the duration of the illness, but 
he had insisted. His cooking was great, his video selection was wide, and he was 
extremely attentive with all the conveniences and luxuries she could need.

It made her feel almost guilty that he was spending his time and his food on her instead of 
doing his Eyes Only. Or maybe she was just uncomfortable with the thought of someone 
caring enough about her to let her monopolize their time.

Either way, she happily lapped up the attention, and despite her flu, felt better then she 
had in a long time. Max finished rinsing the soap and stepped out of the shower, 
snatching a towel as she went. She wrapped it firmly around herself and pulled a comb 
through her hair until it hung in damp, limp, almost black curls to her shoulders.

She walked into the guest bedroom and searched for the drawer where she had placed 
some clothes for emergency or nights she slept over at Logan's. She found a pair of 
burgundy red leggings and a floppy black sweatshirt that looked comfortable enough, and 
quickly changed.

That achieved, she walked back into the living room. Logan had ordered Chinese food 
since Bling couldn't go grocery shopping in the storm and he didn't want to leave Max. 
They were essentially out of food until Bling came over later that evening.

She sat down on the couch with a smile and dug in. Logan wheeled in from the kitchen 
with two glasses and a wine bottle, pre-pre-pulse, and chuckled when he saw her 
shoveling it down.

"Here," he said, pouring a generous glass of honey-colored wine and handing it to her. 

"Thanks."

"It's from the early nineteen hundreds, one of my earliest bottles."

"I bet you have a bunch of these," she said, dissuading his attempts at bragging.

He shrugged. "Probably. And what I don't have, I can get off the black market in 
minutes."

She had no answer, seeing as her mouth was stuffed with food, so they ate on in 
companionable silence, the thunder and rain still pounding in the background. The crews 
couldn't work on the brownout until the storm stopped, and it was a ferocious storm.

When they were done, Max helped Logan clean up and then laid back down on the sofa. 
She was feeling a bit dizzy. Logan was just about to come in and suggest a movie to 
watch when the doorbell rang. 

Max looked up with a cocked eyebrow from her nest of pillows and blankets. Logan 
mirrored her expression and wheeled to the door.

Max heard dim voices talking in the background, Logan's deep, soothing one, and a 
higher female voice. She involuntarily frowned.

There were soon footsteps coming towards the room where she lay and she resisted the 
urge to hide. Training sucks, she thought bitterly. She couldn't even meet a new person 
without wanting to do a hidden stakeout and observe their daily patterns first.

"Max," Logan said from the door. "I want you to meet Keri Newton, one of my 
informants."

Max twisted around on the sofa to face the two and saw the blonde woman Logan had 
blew off the other day when Max had staggered into the apartment.

Slam went Max's walls and she wiped her face off all emotion, except what she wanted 
to be seen. She plastered a curiously polite look on her face, but her eyes betrayed the 
fact that this was all a show.

"Hello," she said nicely. "Pleased to meet you."

"You too," Keri said warmly. 

Logan's brow was furrowed in concern. He had almost heard the slamming of Max's 
mental walls and saw it pass over her face as she switched into her defensive expression 
that separated her and the world with icy walls. She only used that when she encountered 
an enemy, like she was taught, or when she was particularly pissed at him. The stronger 
the emotion she didn't want to deal with, the more detached she became.

"Max is sick," he said to Keri as an explanation of Max being curled up on his sofa in her 
pajamas with candles scattered around. The fact that the scene was quite romantic hadn't 
been lost on him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Keri said to Max.

Max graced her with a patronizing smile that anyone but Logan would interpret as a 
friendly grin. "It's not that bad."

Logan grimaced. The hostility was practically rolling off Max in red-hot waves. She 
really didn't like Keri, but then again, she really didn't like anyone. Her eyes were icy 
and showed distinct disgust in their visitor, and her smile was patronizing and cold. Keri 
seemed to notice none of these things as she rambled on.

"I came to check up on Logan because he got off so fast the other day, I thought 
something was wrong. Now I see that it was because you were sick. I'm glad it wasn't 
too serious!" she said with a giggle. She turned to Logan. "You might have over-reacted 
a bit there, Logan."

He frowned and Max almost smiled. It was apparent that he didn't think he was over-
reacting to Max's illness. "I'm sorry if I gave you a scare, Keri."

She sent him a warm seductive grin and Max wanted to puke. Logan glanced at her and 
saw her biting her pillow in mirth and he shot her a look to make it perfectly clear that it 
was not funny. This made her giggle a bit more, so she buried her head in the pillows to 
stifle a laugh.

"That's okay Logan. I thought something horrible or important had come up, and I 
wanted to make sure you were okay."

Logan valiantly tried to ignore the remark that Max's illness was not important and 
struggled to keep his expression neutral. He could feel Max's eyes on him, gauging his 
reaction to Keri's obvious flirting.

"Oh," she said. "I also need that file that I was going to pick up."

Logan nodded and wheeled towards the computer room. When the two had disappeared 
around the corner, Max settled down. She knew that what she was feeling was green 
jealousy, but she told herself that it was because she didn't want Logan to get tangled 
with a bimbo like Keri Newton.

When the two came into the living room again, Keri was clutching the file.

"So I'll guess I'll see you later?" Keri asked Logan with a slightly suggestive and 
predatory look.

"I'll call you if I need any work done," he said pointedly. "I want to keep my eyes on that 
one drug ring."

She nodded and started towards the door. "Call me anytime!" With a wink, she was gone.

The pair looked at each other for a moment before Logan sighed in disgust and Max fell 
into laughter.

"I hate it when she comes over here," he groaned.

Max chuckled. "I could tell. She looked like she had been hunting you for some time 
now, Logan. She was pretty cocky."

"I've known her for about three years. She seems to think she has a certain claim on me," 
he said while rolling his eyes.

Max looked thoughtful. "I don't remember seeing her at the hospital when you went in 
for surgery."

Logan shrugged. "I specifically made sure she didn't know."

Max grinned and then attempted to hide it. While he was in the hospital for those few 
days, he had asked Max to come and visit him everyday, and she had done so more then 
willingly.

"You didn't seem to like her very much," Logan said.

"No," Max replied. "She was a bimbo. I'm glad you've never gotten involved with 
anyone like her."

Logan felt the need to point out his ex-wife. "Valerie," he said. "Was a ditz. She had a 
certain energy around her, but she was more into my money then me." He silently 
thought Valerie wanted my money, but Max never did.

"So that's the only reason you got married?" she asked him, glad to have a rare glimpse 
into Logan's own shady past.

"Well... she was a good companion. I was used to people hanging around for the money, 
so I assumed that it was natural. She was like a bought friend, I suppose," he stopped to 
think about it. "At one time, I thought I was in love with her. Now I see that I wasn't. Not 
for one second was I in love with Valerie."

Max felt that she shouldn't answer that in any way, shape, or form. She wanted to ask 
whether he had ever been in love with anyone, and if so, with whom? But she felt that by 
asking that, she would disappoint herself. She didn't acknowledge the thought outright, 
but it lurked in the back of her mind.

He sighed sadly. "Come on," Max said, changing the subject. "Let's watch a movie. An 
old black and white one."

She slid to half sit in the pillows and patted the sofa next to her, inviting Logan to sit. He wheeled over and easily
hoisted himself onto the sofa. He showed her the slipcover of an 
old movie.

"How about Casablanca?" he asked. "It's an old black and white romance with 
Humphrey Bogart."

She thought that a romance fit the moment. "Sounds good to me."

He popped the movie into the VCR and they snuggled in to watch.




Max woke around midnight, the lightening crashing around the penthouse and shaking 
the windows. She sat up, wondering why she had woken.

Then she felt it. A slight tremor starting in the back of her neck and making her teeth 
chatter. It was coming on fast and she needed her meds to suppress it. Soon her whole 
body was wracked with the seizures and she pulled herself into a ball. She would get the 
Tryptophane, but she was afraid to walk on her unstable legs.

It was getting worse extremely quickly as the sudden flashbacks popped into her mind. 
She tried to shake them off, but to no avail. She mentally sighed to herself.


Logan woke himself out of a deep slumber. It had been a half hour and he wanted to 
check on Max. Sleeping at intervals like this had helped him catch more then one 
dangerously rising fever during the past few days. 

He quickly pulled himself into his chair and wheeled into the living room. Max had taken 
to staying in there so she could watch TV, movies, or get to the fridge at will. She slept 
about six hours during the night due to her illness, that left her mentally and physically 
exhausted and when she wasn't sleeping, she was restless.

Rain pounded the windows, as usual. It had become part of the background din for the 
past few days, stopping hardly ever. When it did, it was unnaturally quiet. Lightening 
flickered angrily across the sky and illuminated the room. 

Max was huddled on the end of the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest and her legs 
wrapped around her legs. She was violently shaking, and Logan quickly wheeled to her 
side.

She looked at him with wide eyes, silently telling him to get her meds, and fast. He 
obeyed the silent command and grabbed them off the bathroom shelf before hurrying 
back.

She snatched the bottle out of his hands as soon as he was within reach, and in two 
seconds, and yanked the cap off and swallowed two pills.

He helped her lay down and gently pulled the covers off her body. She was burning with 
fever. "Shhh. It's okay Max, calm down."

He muttered soothing phrases to her as he wiped some damp hair off her forehead. She 
gratefully clutched his hand and they waited out the seizures in silence.




"For you Max," Logan said. He handed her the phone and she took it.

"Hello?"

"Max!"

"Oh, hey Kendra."

Max could just hear the smirk in Kendra's voice. "So you've been at Logan's for this past 
week?"

Max sighed. Here we go again. The best way to get Kendra off her case was the gross-out tactic, so she made somthing
up. "Yes Kendra, and if you don't believe it, I have the bag of 
puke we saved, just to prove it to you."

Kendra wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew. Okay, okay, I believe you. So how do you 
feel?"

Max was seated in Logan's living room with a glass of cold orange juice, looking over 
the gold-painted Seattle roof tops as the sun poked up from the horizon. "Great, actually."

Logan muttered a curse in the background as he and Bling unloaded groceries that Bling 
had brought from the deli and Max chuckled.

"What's going on over there?" Kendra asked, hearing the clamor.

"Logan and Bling are unloading groceries."

"Ah. So tell me, what did they say you had?"

"The heinlen virus. Thanks to my... uh... neurological condition, it wreaks havoc with 
my immune system. But no long term effects."

"Thank you Doctor Heinlen," Kendra quipped sarcastically. "For the great flu and an 
even better time suffering through it!"

"Well, Logan's been feeding me well and I got to watch a bunch of pre-pulse videos 
besides getting in some reading... so yeah. I'd have to say an okay time being sick. So 
thanks Dr. Heinlen!"

Logan, who had heard that specific part of the conversation, chuckled. He selfishly 
wanted Max to be sick just a while longer so he could take care of her and have her 
around twenty-four seven, but all good things must come to an end.

Max half-wanted to stay at Logan's, being pampered with good cooking and wine, 
candles and black and white movies, and Logan's constant attention. She had thought that 
staying with Logan without breaks would show a grating habit of his, or that they 
couldn't get along well for long stretches of time, but their personalities meshed perfectly 
and he was perfect. She quickly dispelled that thought.

"So when are ya coming home?" Kendra asked.

Logan sat across from Max with a plate of hot food, which she eagerly took. "I dunno.." 
she said evasively. "I might just stay here."

Logan grinned at her, and she smiled back. Suddenly, Max thought of something. "How's 
my baby?" she asked Kendra.

"The bike? It's fine."

"She," said Max in a reprimanding tone. "It's a she."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, I gotta go, so come home soon. Okay?"

"Sure will. Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Max replaced the receiver and dived into the breakfast Logan had so thoughtfully 
prepared for her. He chuckled and he and Bling started to eat to, the demanding task of 
putting the groceries away temporarily on hold.

Max finished up with lightening speed and grabbed her coat as she stood. "Gotta blaze," 
she said reluctantly. "I just know that Kendra's using my baby as a towel rack again."

Logan smiled at her warmly and she momentarily melted. "Call me if you need 
anything," he said charmingly.

"Don't worry, I will," she turned to leave, but faced Logan again. "And Logan, thanks."

He was about to reply, but Max stooped down and gave him a chaste peck on the lips 
before she flew out of the penthouse like a bat outta hell. When he snapped to his senses, 
Bling was laughing with mirth.




Max wheeled her bike threw the empty streets. Everything was coated in rain from the 
storm that ripped through their dilapidated town the night before. It smelled earthy and 
fresh, and a clean breath was pushing Max's hair back away from her face. It was chilly, 
but clear and new out.

She turned the corner, putting Foggle Towers behind her and smiled without even 
knowing it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: This was something I decided to write on a whim, don't ask me why. I prayed to God we would have a
snow day today, turned up the stereo, and spent all night writing it. And thank you God, we did have that snow day
today. Take that, Dallastown High! Like I said, i jut finsished writing