Hey there everyone,

Well here's the 3rd installment of Geiar's bio. When we last left the story Logan had finished telling Geiar how she came to join their group. We pick up just afterward. As usual - questions, concerns, comments, let me know!

Enjoy

JEn

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Generic Disclaimer

Sabe De La Torre -- is the original Creation of Julie of Providence

Geiar N'Dege -- is my original character. (This is Geiar V.1 -- she is the first, and not the same one who appears in Primary Access.)

Logan West -- is the original creation of Brian of Baltimore.

Raith Westheimer -- is the original creation of Zach of Taos.

Mr. Johnson -- is my original creation inspired by Jason of Portland, our game master.

Category -- Adventure/Drama

Rating -- PG-13 -- Contains some strong language and violence.

Disclaimer -- This is original fiction, inspired by a year's worth of roleplaying while living at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. All characters belong to their respective owners, I'm not writing for profit here, just for fun.

To the Ipswitch Crew -- Although time and geography may have robbed us of our frienship and I cannot properly ask you for permission to use your creations, I hope that my humble attempts at breathing life into a memory meet with your satisfaction and enjoyment should you ever find this work before you.

By Jenna.

"Okay, wait a minute," Geiar's voice split the silence of the hospital room. "How did you know the contact was dead?" Logan smiled at her question, obviously she was thinking about what they told her and not just taking it as fact.

"The contract was double blind. We didn't know their name," Logan explained, "and they didn't know any of ours. The only information we shared was about you, your name, what you looked like." Geiar nodded understanding where the logic was headed.

"So when this other fellow walked up to you and said your name you knew he couldn't be the contact." Logan's smile broadened. "Makes sense." Geiar couldn't help but smile back, his enthusiasm was infectious and she felt like she had just won some kind of prize for guessing right. Then suddenly her smile faded.

"I killed a man. . ." It was a question and a statement of fact. Geiar's gaze fell to some distant, invisible point. This reaction was a familiar one. She had acted the same way when it happened, Logan remembered. Isolating herself from everyone, she had spent most of the next week gutting the truck and rewiring the systems inside. No one could come near her. Her anger was overwhelming, he thought, she kept all of us at bay with a look. Logan laughed inwardly, who am I kidding? She scared the bejezuz out of us.

Raith watched Geiar from across the room as his thoughts also returned to the aftermath of that first battle. At that time he couldn't understand why she had been so despondent, it's not like she intended to kill him. He was the one holding the gun to her head, she merely defended herself. Raith finally resigned himself to the knowledge that Geiar simply wasn't a warrior. He shook his head slowly as the thoughts circulated; she's going to go through it all over again.

"No you didn't kill him," he heard his voice say. "I shot him." Puzzled, Geiar looked at Raith, her eyes demanding an explanation as the other two echoed her request. "You couldn't have. You were scared shitless," he laughed, the lies were coming easier now. "You never even got a shot off." Logan's lips curled into a smile as he realized what his friend was offering. Raith shrugged, "I mean, if you had shot him he would have fallen backwards instead of on top of you like he did. He was clearly shot from behind." Geiar nodded, swallowing his justification, but not completely believing it. Nervous, Raith looked around the room then approached her, perching his body on the edge of the bed. "When I picked you up, the gun you were holding still had a full clip." He spoke quietly, almost as if he were revealing a secret.

"But Logan said. . ."

"I was getting the truck, remember? I told you only what I saw through the doorway. I couldn't see what Raith and Sabe were doing from there." Logan decided to play along. In this case, maybe what she didn't know really wouldn't hurt her. Geiar turned to Sabe, but all she did was shrug and smile.

"I don't carry a gun," she offered, "But I've never known Raith to lie about what happens in battle." Before now, she finished silently.

"I don't have to," Raith answered with a crooked grin as Sabe volleyed a spirit cooling look in his direction. But it was useless, Raith had found freedom in his storytelling. Looking again at Geiar, his grin turned into a gentle smile. "You've never killed anyone," he said almost apologetically. "You're always doing something else when the fun begins." His deadpan humor was going to take some getting used to, Geiar noted. Surely he couldn't be serious that fighting was fun. Could he?

Raith was still smiling at her when she noticed that his otherwise smooth skin was marred by three lines tracing the shape of his jaw. Without thinking, Geiar reached up and touched them, her fingernails easily finding the grooves of those long forgotten scars. Instantly his smile disappeared as the soft blue of his eyes hardened to ice. He pierced her with an ireful look. She dropped her hand immediately and in the silence that followed the conversation died.

A sharp knock at the door announced the entrance of a nurse pushing a wheelchair. "Okay, Geiar, it's test time," he said lightly, "put your books away and get out a number 2 pencil." All four heads turned to see a young, but slightly balding man walk into the room. He was wearing the requisite scrubs and sneakers as he pointed the chair toward the bed, patiently waiting for one of the two men to get out of the way. To the nurse they looked like guards flanking her bed, but surprisingly they both stepped away quickly, if not nervously. Moments later, he was pushing her down the hall, wheeling her away from her visitors and toward some unknown destination.

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"So are you going to tell her?" Sabe asked after some time passed. "You have to tell her." Raith paced the room, peeking his head out the door periodically and wondering when they were going to leave.

"Sabe, she hardly knows who she is right now, I can't be telling her about. . .us." A look of defeat shadowed Logan's features as he dropped back into his now customary chair. "I gotta give her a chance to get comfortable around us again before I drop a bomb like that." She shook her head angrily.

"You have to tell her, Logan." Sabe was leaning forward in her chair pointing a thin, graceful finger in his direction. "If she finds out later that you kept it from her, it's going to hurt her."

"And if I tell her now I'll frighten her." Logan argued, "she doesn't even know who I am!"

"You'll look like you don't want her anymore," she warned, "Raith, tell him!" She turned to find her partner staring out the window onto a darkening world, now wishing more than ever he were out there instead of in here. Reluctantly, he turned around and studied them. He shook his head.

"I think Logan's right." Her brow furrowed in anger. "Geiar doesn't even know us anymore, telling her that she and Logan were that. . .close. It could upset her."

Sabe was frustrated. "What do you know?" She dismissed him with the wave of her hand. "Your idea of a relationship is a one night stand!"

"Love is weakness!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Logan. "Look at him - he's useless!"

Suddenly on the sidelines, Logan grew indignant as the insult flew past him. "What? I am not useless!" His defense was lost in the fray of their argument as he simply ceased to exist. Sabe sprung from her seat and charged Raith.

"Look, Dr. Brooks said we need to be completely up front with her." Raith crossed his arms impatiently.

"If you have a point could you get to it, Sabetina?" She growled. Sabe hated it when he used her full name like that and he knew it. He towered over her, a malicious grin twisting his face in an unappealing way as he egged her on. But, try as she might, Sabe couldn't resist the urge to continue her argument.

"How are we helping by keeping the truth from her?" Sabe raised her eyebrow at him. "She's never gonna get better if she doesn't know who she is. Huh? Am I right? Or are you gonna create a whole new life for her too?" A couple of seconds passed in silence as she turned away from him. "By the way, nice job with the story today. You're such a competent liar, I never knew." The words slithered from her mouth. "I'm sure you'll have no problem making up the rest."

Raith exploded. "I did it for her! Remember what hell she went through the first time?" He reached for Sabe's arm and roughly spun her around to face him. "Couldn't you see where she was going? She didn't even remember the bastard, why make her go through it again?" He pointed to the empty bed, "that wasn't a memory, that was a nightmare! Being a killer doesn't have to be the first thing she learns about herself!" Startled by his outburst, Sabe backed down. Raith released his grip on her arm and tried to smooth the fabric of her silk blouse. "I'm sure Logan understands what I was trying to do." His suggestion was met with silence. For the first time since they started arguing, they looked around and found themselves alone. "Logan?"

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The room was empty when he returned. Apparently, Raith and Sabe got tired of waiting for him so they left. Wonder how long it took them to realize it this time, Logan mused. Those two forget everything else when they get going, it's just lucky they've never lost it in combat. He shook his head at that possibility as he pushed the note they left behind into the pocket of his jeans. Crossing the room, Logan passed Geiar's abandoned bed and headed toward the window. The city washed away from his view in a sea of amber streetlights.

"You've been sitting there staring out that window for 40 minutes, are you alright?" Logan turned to see Geiar breezing through her bedroom door into the living room.

"Just enjoying the view," Logan explained quietly, his eyes never leaving the glass. "Don't have much of one myself." Geiar laughed and walked toward him. "Guess I never thought it was important," he justified.

"That's why I moved here. Hell, that's the one thing this place had going for it." Logan wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. She draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned into him as they both looked out the window. "So much for a white Christmas," she added. He shrugged at the remark. Logan turned from the window and faced Geiar as her arms dropped from his shoulders.

"I have something for you," he said smiling mischievously and bobbing his index finger in the air between them. Geiar glared at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

"We said no gifts." Guilt passed over Logan's face as he directed her to the nearby sofa. "Logan, what are you doing?" He added a guilt laugh to his guilty smile. "This is dirty!" She pushed away from him and planted her hands on her hips.

"Just open it," he said extending his hand. Geiar dropped her shoulders and sighed. "It's not a gift. . .exactly."

"What is it then . . .exactly. A lump of coal?" She was trying not to smile as she timidly reached for the box. Firing one last dissatisfied look his way, she resolved herself to having been tricked and proceeded to turn the small box around in her hands. Logan watched impatiently as she fumbled with the paper wrapping. When the small velvet box finally tumbled into her hands, he held his breath and waited. She stopped and looked up at him, but his eyes were set on her hands. Slowly he lifted his gaze and met Geiar with a look so vulnerable it shook her.

"I wanted to give you something that showed how much I love you," he was nearly whispering, "that's the only thing that came close." Geiar dropped her eyes back to the box in her hands and held it tightly before opening it. Her jaw dropped. Inside, nestled between two small pillows rested a simple gold band with three diamonds. The stones sparkled in the dimly twinkling lights of they nearby Christmas tree and Geiar was mesmerized. She couldn't stop staring.

Her reaction confused Logan. She didn't look at him and she didn't say anything. She simply stared. He took the box from her hands and presented the ring to her. "I love you Geiar, I want to marry you." A tear fell down her cheek as she finally regained the strength to look at him. "Will you marry me?"

She tried to answer, but Geiar found her voice failed. Instead, all she could muster was a slight nod of her head and a weak smile as more tears fell. Almost reverently, Logan lifted her hand and slipped the ring on her finger then leaned close and kissed her. The cold metal felt thick and heavy around her finger as she brought her arms around his neck and pulled herself against him. Burying her face in his shoulder, she finally answered his question.

"Yes." It was barely a whisper between tears, but she had said it. The sound of her voice at that moment, one simple word so filled with joy it quivered, echoed though Logan's memory as he stood alone and stared out the window into a black world. The ring in his shirt pocket grew heavier with each passing moment until it felt like it would tear through the fabric and fall to the ground at his feet.

He looked at his watch again, the hands hadn't moved. Well, not much anyway. Walking away from the window he reached her bed and dropped down into his chair. Through the cracked door of the room he heard the nurses chatter as the shift changed. Absently, he leaned forward and rested against the edge of her bed. The go-with-everything-beige blanket felt thin and rough under his hand and he wondered briefly if she got cold at night. He made a mental note to ask her.

His mind wandered back to the earlier argument with Sabe. "I can't just tell her," he protested. "But I can't lie to her either." Logan dropped back into his seat and stared at the empty bed. She should be coming back soon, he noted, again glancing at his watch. Standing, Logan smoothed the blankets and fluffed her pillows before wandering back toward the window. His back was to the door when it opened. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and watched as Geiar was wheeled back into the room. She smiled brightly at him.

"I knew you'd be here!" Her voice was almost chipper. Logan chuckled, and as a grin spread across his own face he answered her.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're always here." She watched him amble over to his chair and sit down beside her. The pointed edge of a canine poked from an otherwise uniform row of teeth as he smiled back. Geiar pointed to her own teeth and looked at Logan inquisitively. He was momentarily confused then understanding lightened his face.

"My fang. . . " he explained proudly, then his voice softened. "Broke my tooth in a fight."

"Did I know you?" He shook his head.

"I was still a kid when it happened," he explained, "high school." Logan laughed shyly. "I was quite a runt back then." He raised an eyebrow toward Geiar to gage her reaction. It was predictable. There is no way he could ever be a 'runt', she thought. "No, I was - well I was tall, but the kind of kid who would be great at fishing balls from the storm drain, if you know what I mean." She tried to stifle a giggle at the description.

"I can't imagine you. . . " Geiar was studying his face trying to come up with some idea of him as a young man, a teenager, and she just couldn't do it. Besides the fact that she was having problems getting past his deep brown eyes, she just couldn't see Logan for anything other than who he was now.

"Don't bother, it's not an attractive picture." Logan started to blush as she held her gaze on him. Finally, he looked away. "Well anyway, in a nutshell, the day this tooth broke is the day I decided to fight back."

"Fight back?" Geiar repeated.

"Senior year I was voted most likely to get my ass kicked." Geiar chuckled but stopped when she saw the hurt look on his face. It had only lasted a split second, but she caught it and it took her breath away. "Enough was enough and I fought back." A small grin crossed his face, "man I fought like a son of a bitch. . .and I won. I promised myself I'd never lose again."

Geiar watched Logan. It was easy to get lost in his voice she decided, and she worked to pay attention to what he was actually saying. "I started learning everything I could about fighting. It became an obsession. Eventually it became my life."

"Is it still an obsession?" Her chestnut eyes were inquisitive as she looked toward Logan for the answer. "I mean are you as. . .enthusiastic? "

"I used to be."

"You're not anymore?" Logan shook his head. "What happened?" Tell her! Sabe's words cut through his memory as he tried to answer. Don't! Raith countered and the battle continued.

"I fell in love." The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. Stupid! Stupid! Logan berated himself.

Geiar smiled, it amused her to think that such a seemingly tough man could be so easily swayed. "You changed for a woman?" she asked, her eyes shining at the idea of such a romantic gesture.

"She's not just any woman," Logan defended as he searched her face for any sign of recognition but there was none. He might as well be talking about anyone. "She's my balance, my shelter. Falling in love with her was not a conscious act."

"It was an unconscious act?" She was feeling playful, Logan noticed as he grimaced at her word play. Sensing this might be a touchy subject, Geiar backpedaled. "She must be a very special woman to capture the heart of a man so. . .so. . . " Geiar searched for some word that might describe him, but it was fruitless. ". . .Well a man like you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "A man like me?" Geiar felt a light warmth rise into her face. She hadn't meant anything by the comment. Really, she didn't. It was just that Logan wasn't exactly what she'd consider an average guy. In the couple of days she had known him. . .again. . .he proved to be different than other men she had known. A mysterious intensity hid just beyond his quiet demeanor and Geiar didn't know him well enough to understand it. He built his life around fighting, just like Raith he says, and yet he's not at all like Raith. In the background of her mind, Geiar began working on the Logan puzzle as she started searching for a way to answer his question.

Logan watched a light blush fill her cheeks as she looked away nervously. If she's feeling playful, he thought, I can have a little fun, too. He had leaned toward her when he asked his question, bringing his face quite close to hers and challenging her to answer. A description please, what kind of man am I? She flinched, game over. But sadly it hadn't been a level playing field. She hadn't known her opponent but he knew her. He knew her too well.

"She is very special," Logan finally admitted, saving Geiar from the embarrassment of trying to answer him. "But I didn't change for her. It was more like she brought out what was already there - but hiding."

"Do I know her?" she asked innocently as Logan's smile fell into a flat line. She needs to know! Sabe's voice shouted, but he pushed her out of his head in exchange for the uneasy feeling that comes with lying to a loved one.

"You know who she is, yes." It wasn't a complete lie, Logan reasoned, but it wasn't the truth either.

"Will I get to meet her. . again?" Geiar was curious about this woman. Logan was here all the time, but, as far as she knew, his girlfriend had never made an appearance.

"We're not together. . .exactly" Logan couldn't look at her when he answered. Instead, his eyes settled for gazing at her hand, her left hand, and the tan line around her ring finger that was invisible to everyone else except him.

"Oh," She seemed honestly saddened by the news, "but you still love her?"

"Very much," he still couldn't take his eyes away from her hand. It rested so lightly beside her that he thought it almost floated above the mattress. Then suddenly it moved as Geiar reached across the space between them and rested it on his shoulder.

"I like to believe that love like that will come back to you." Surprised, Logan looked up and found himself again caught in her gaze. "Somehow. . .you'll find it again." She smiled gently at him then withdrew her hand as Logan continued to stare. He was stunned. It was as if Geiar, his Geiar, for one fleeting moment had reached through the void of her memory to send him a message. Don't give up on me, I'm still here! His jaw dropped and Logan found himself fighting the sudden need to draw her into his arms and kiss her. The need grew until eventually he forced himself to stand up and walk away.

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A couple hours later, Logan left Geiar with the promise of returning again tomorrow. After the door closed behind him, she sat in her room and considered her day. Amid the fuzziness of her mind, she had begun to get to know the people around her again. They seemed friendly enough, she thought, if not a little strange. Open and reserved at the same time, what an odd combination. Their stories entertained her. Their personalities however, were something else.

Sabe seemed to be as enthusiastic as someone could be without risking personal injury. Her bubbly attitude was a relief from the somber atmosphere of the hospital, and as she listened to the woman talk, Geiar relaxed. For a while she even felt like herself again. Well, as much as a person could when they don't really know who they are anymore.

Raith, on the other hand, seemed to have to try very hard at being social. Geiar thought back to what happened earlier. The scars on his face; Geiar was certain she had put them there. But he had turned on her when she touched him. Why? And yet, he approached her, nearly confiding in her the truth about what happened that day. You were scared shitless. . . I shot him. His whispered confession floated through her tired mind. It didn't make sense. If I was really that scared why would I go for the gun at all? Geiar made a note to ask someone about that when she got the chance as she lay down and let drowsiness set in.

Before falling asleep her eyes fell to the empty chair by her bed. Logan, she thought, now there's another one. He's always here, and he always sits right there. She smiled at the idea of seeing him again tomorrow. Of the three, she enjoyed his company the most, which is probably a good thing considering he's always around. But even he acted strangely when she touched him, and it wasn't the first time they'd touched each other. What was different this time?

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The sky was periwinkle when he returned. It was less than an hour before dawn as Logan crept through the halls of the hospital carrying a box of assorted objects toward Geiar's room. Quietly, he let himself in and moved toward her bed. It was early and he didn't want to wake her. She was still asleep and, as usual, uncovered. Logan smiled to himself as he gently placed the box on her table and reached for the blankets to cover her again. Geiar often kicked the blankets away, he remembered, only to freeze later on. Not that she ever woke up and covered herself. Keeping her warm had become second nature to him, and even now that she was here, he often found himself waking in the middle of the night to check on her. Each time he was met with half a bed still neatly made, and each time he tried to fall back asleep before he was awake enough to realize why.

Geiar stirred as he covered her, but she didn't wake. For a moment, Logan just watched her sleep, then returned to her table and quietly looked through the box of goodies he had brought. Retrieving a small crystal vase, he walked over to the sink and filled it. Then he pulled out a rose he had tucked inside his coat, dropped it into the cool water and placed the duo on the edge of her table. Next, he produced a card and propped it against the vase. Lifting the box from the table, Logan sought out a better place for it and eventually settled on the chair across from her bed.

Setting the box down, Logan looked one last time at Geiar. Without thinking, he returned to her side and kissed her cheek. "I love you," he whispered as he pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. She didn't move.

A few moments later, he exited the hospital and climbed into a glossy black minivan. "Everything go alright?" Raith asked from the driver's seat. Sabe woke with the slamming of the side door as Logan settled into the back.

"Yeah. Let's just get this over with," he said as the van rolled out of the parking lot and disappeared into the pulse of the waking city.

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Hours later, Geiar awoke to a quiet room. Her vision was still fuzzy when she spied the vase and card on her table. She blinked and rubbed her eyes as she tried to coax them into opening for another day. Pulling the table across her bed, she reached for the card and laughed at the picture, a basset hound in Groucho glasses. Inside the black ink of Logan's swiftly printed message broke against the white paper.

Geiar was disappointed. "Out of town on business. . ." she repeated, having an idea what kind of business he might mean. Well this is nice, just when I get to know them again they leave, she complained, but it's not like they're lives stopped because mine did. Resolving herself to a few days of solitude, Geiar scanned the room for the promised objects and found the box Logan left behind. After retrieving it, she started rummaging through its contents.

A short stack of CD's along with a player came out first and Geiar proceeded to set up a little musical accompaniment while she continued to browse. "Cyrano De Bergerac," she read out loud as she flipped through the soft, yellowed pages of a well-loved copy. The faded memory of the play passed through her mind. It had been her favorite once, apparently it still was. Geiar held the paperback up and smiled at the face of an old friend.

A thick stack of photographs came out next. Some were scenery, but most were of the group. Sabe was in a lot of them of course, holding down whichever person she happened to trap into having their picture taken. She was smiling, her companion usually wasn't. And then there were the photos taken when they weren't looking. Captured moments in time.

I'm not in many, Geiar noted. Guess I know who was behind the shutter. She filed through the pictures quickly, every so often an image would catch her eye and she'd linger.

"Whoa, me in a dress?" Geiar laughed at herself. The woman in the photo was obviously uncomfortable. She stood cross-armed and slouching as she waited impatiently for that particular torture to be over, but she was smiling. "I never wear dresses," she argued to the photograph. Geiar couldn't pull away from the picture. She was looking at herself, but then again, she wasn't. Eventually, her curiosity won out and she moved on to the next one.

Geiar filed through more pictures. There were quite a lot, she noted. Probably with the hopes of jogging her memory. In one, Logan and Sabe were horsing around. She was tossed over his shoulder as he walked away from the camera. Sabe's long dark hair fell like drapery around her face, hiding most of her features except for the flash of cherry red lipstick. Well, they're fun to look at anyway. . .She put the stack down on the table and decided to move on to something else. Look at those some more later, she thought.

"A bottle of perfume?" Spraying it lightly on her wrist, she found the aroma suited her and sprayed a little more. Placing the bottle aside she peered back into this seeming treasure chest of goodies. A blue stuffed rabbit, a dog-eared memo book and what looked like a handful of chocolate scattered in the bottom of the box were all that was left. She collected the items, placed them on her table then dropped the box in the chair beside her. Geiar stared at the collection laid out before her and absently wondered how Logan knew to choose those things. Not only that but how did he get them?

She released a little chocolate bite from its gold paper wrapping and decided to spend the day snooping through her belongings.

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Logan was crouched in the back of the minivan pouring over information on a computer screen. The monitor colored his expression in a cold, blue light. He stopped and rubbed his forehead, sighing heavily. "Are we sure this is the layout of the place?"

"Geiar checked it herself before she went in," Raith answered from the driver's seat. "She left a readme file. . . "

"Yeah I see that." Logan answered impatiently as he opened the file and read it again for the fourth time since they left the hospital. Obsessing wasn't going to do him any good, so he decided to return to the back seat and just relax. Trying to stand, he banged his head on the ceiling and howled.

"Be careful," the words came from the passenger seat in a song as Logan watched Sabe smile in her mirror. She was reapplying her lipstick. . .again. Nearly bent in two he made his way to the back seat and sat down.

"Why did we have to change vans, will someone remind me?"

"Because it was ugly and we stood out," the lips in the mirror answered.

"I could stand in there. . ."

"So could I," the lips retorted, "but this is better."

"A minivan?" Raith chimed in, "how is it better?"

"It has the space we need for the equipment and we all fit," She looked at Logan and tried to fight a smile from her face. "Well mostly, anyway." Logan snarled at her, the bump on his head still smarting. "Besides, don't knock it, this thing was free. Daddy got it for me. I could have gotten my new Mercedes!"

"Poor baby," Raith cooed, "looks like you'll fall behind all the other Mafia princesses now." She crossed her arms and looked at Raith with a narrow-eyed scowl.

"Shut up and drive." Logan raised his eyebrow at the response as he leaned into the wall of the van and tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. His body was here, but his mind had never left the hospital. He closed his eyes and saw her sleeping, just as he had left her that morning. This was the first mission he'd been on as a team without her since. . .well since she disappeared. But then most of those missions were attempts to find her. Not that they ever did. She just showed up one day, about six months later, and scared the hell out of everyone. Logan chuckled to himself, she had a way of doing that.

"You're thinking about her again," Raith stated from the front seat.

"She's my fiancée, sue me." Logan grew defensive. He already knew where this was going. Straightening himself in the seat, he settled in for another attack of how he's not a true warrior anymore, but Sabe saved him. Well, saved him from one hell anyway.

"So you told her?" Logan drew in a tired breath and crossed his arms.

She shook her head, disappointed in his decision. "I know I need to tell her, Sabe. It's just. . .it's not the easiest thing to discuss, okay?"

"It's not going to get any easier." She turned and looked at him and her gaze was met with a look of sadness she had only rarely seen in her friend. Releasing her seat belt, Sabe moved to the back seat and sat beside him.

Behind the steering wheel, Raith groaned. "Do we need to do this now?" The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in this van listening to the latest gory details of someone love life. He didn't go in for all that romantic bullshit and thought less of those who did. He tried unsuccessfully to distance himself as much as he could from the whole idea.

"Not jealous, concerned. You can't live a life like this without total concentration on the craft, falling in love makes you lose that concentration." He believed that, he really did. War was his religion. And like any faith sacrifices must be made to reach to perfection. Watching Logan fall in love was like watching his best friend fall from a state of grace.

Sabe ignored Raith. Turning toward Logan she saw he had adjusted his expression and now looked at her completely emotionless. "You're afraid once you tell her you'll have to face the fact that she may not love you anymore." Logan's poker face dropped. Her voice was barely a whisper, low enough so that Raith couldn't hear. He was thankful for that much. As much as he came to disagree with Raith on his ideas of Love and concentration, he couldn't help but feel like he had somehow let his friend down.

"You don't tell her so you don't find out." Sabe had the annoying ability to read people, and although it came in handy when they were dealing with others it was usually a pain in the ass to those around her. She moved closer to Logan and placed her hand on his shoulder. "If you don't tell her soon you will lose her." He looked away. "But if you tell her now, you still have a chance."

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The days passed slowly for Geiar. Wednesday to "the weekend." The weekend Friday, or the weekend Sunday, she sighed. In two brief days she had already grown accustomed to her visitors, her friends, and now she missed them. Logan especially. Geiar decided that it was he, if anyone, who held the key to her past. But beyond that she craved his company. He made her feel safe and cared for in a world she no longer recognized. He was spoiling her with attention. The thought made her smile as she reached for the stack of photos and began looking through them again for his picture.

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Saturday morning cartoons blared from the television set as Geiar sat up in bed finishing off the last of her breakfast and reading.

Geiar sighed, wiped a tear from her eye and kept reading. Once again Cyrano and his white plume have left Roxanne to mourn the loss of her only now discovered love. Finishing the last pages of the play, Geiar lifted the photograph that had been her bookmark and studied it. Since she found that photograph, peeled it away from the back of another actually, she hadn't given any thought to her past or for that matter her future. Her mind was stuck on that one moment in time. She had no memories to draw upon, to illuminate the story behind the picture, yet she kept trying to figure it out.

Tucking the photo back into the pages of the book, Geiar dropped it into the box still resting in the chair beside her bed. The muffled sound of hinges turning brought her attention quickly toward the door and Sabe standing there with large shopping bag and a warm smile. "I bet you though you'd seen the last of us!" she said cheerfully, swinging the bag as she walked into the room. Geiar's disposition changed immediately.

"Sabe! Oh I'm glad to see you!" Geiar quickly silenced the TV and smiled for the first time in days. "I've been going nuts here!" Sabe giggled as she reached across the bed and hugged her friend. Happy, but still looking around, Geiar grew puzzled. "Where's Logan?" Sabe looked at her friend, "I mean Logan and Raith, didn't they come with you?"

"They'll be along later." Geiar nodded, and forced another smile to hide her disappointment. "Don't look so sad, he can't stay away from you for long." She smiled again more pleasantly as Sabe made herself comfortable in Logan's chair. Geiar's reaction didn't unnoticed.

Pulling a large square scarf from the bag she stopped and considered Geiar. "What do you think of those two, anyway" She asked casually, tying two ends of the scarf together. Geiar shrugged as Sabe stood and motioned for her to put her arm through the loop of fabric. Draping the silky material across her back, Sabe pulled the other two corners together and tied a small knot effectively creating a shawl for Geiar.

"It's more fashionable than a bathrobe," she explained, "and besides, with that IV they have in you, this is easier to deal with." Sabe glowed with the ingenuity of her creation. Geiar examined the fabric, it billowed around her shoulders and fell against her arms in soft curves of patterned silk. "I tried to find one that didn't clash too badly with your little gown," Sabe apologized, "but then I realized it wasn't possible. That's as good as I got. . .at least it'll keep you modest!" Geiar laughed as Sabe studied her creation.

"They take some getting used to, but they're good guys, really." She steered the conversation back toward her original topic.

"I feel pretty comfortable around them. . .mostly," Geiar answered. "More Logan than Raith, I get the feeling he doesn't care for me."

"Raith?" Sabe stopped and looked at Geiar as though she had began speaking another language.

"He got angry with me when I touched him. . ." An understanding smile crossed Sabe's face. Reaching for Geiar's hand, she cradled it in her own reassuringly.

"Geiar, Raith isn't used to being touched like that," Sabe explained, "you just took him by surprise."

"I saw the scars. . ."

"He doesn't admit to injury." What kind of character is this guy, Geiar thought.

"Well then why did he come and sit next to me anyway?" She was confused. "If he's so cold with everyone, why do that?"

"He was just trying to calm you down," Sabe explained. "He's a hard man, but he does care. . .sometimes he even lets it show."

"Are you sure it's not me?" Geiar asked timidly. "Logan did the same thing the last time he was here." Now Sabe was concerned. She stopped pulling things from her bag as she offered all her concentration to Geiar's words. "We were talking about his girlfriend, well his ex, I guess. I leaned over and put my hand on his shoulder. . ."

"Ex-girlfriend?" Alarms went off as Geiar nodded and continued talking.

"I just wanted to reassure him that everything would be alright, that he might be hurting now but that it gets better." She stopped as though to gather her next thoughts, or maybe push down that ache in her throat at the thought of Logan turning his back on her. "He walked away from me." Her voice was softer than she meant it to be. "He didn't stay upset for long," Geiar rushed to add as she watched Sabe grow more agitated, "In fact, the rest of the night was pretty nice. It was almost like that didn't happen."

"But it bothers you," Sabe answered tightly. Embarrassed, Geiar looked away, but nodded.

"I don't know why it should," she responded honestly, "I don't know him. . .I mean I don't remember. . ."

"I know what you mean."

"This is crazy, but I feel like he knew me better than anyone. Like I know him. . .The last thing I want to do is hurt him." she looked around, "He's my only way out." Geiar's voice grew smaller, "is that why he didn't come with you today?" A stream of choice words flowed through Sabe's mind as she tried to find a suitable answer to her question. Logan you're gonna pay dearly for making me choose between friends. . .

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"Yes. . .yes I know." Logan paced through the dim apartment cradling the phone to his ear as he passed through the living room. "Did you tell her that I would be by tomorrow?" He flailed a hand in defeat. "Why did you say that, you know I can't go until tomorrow?" The voice argued back. "Not like this I can't. . .No it's not an excuse!" He made his way toward the bathroom, a bright square of yellow light spilled into the doorway as he stood before the mirror and closed his eyes. Opening them, he was met with the tired, beaten expression of a man who wished for better days. Tilting his head to the side, Logan examined his latest injury. The angry red gash traced a deep crease from his eyebrow to the outside of his cheek as a darkening bruise spread across his temple and puddled into the hollow of his eye. Logan shook his head and turned away.

"I'm sorry. . . " The shrill voice on the other end was relentless. "I already said I'm sorry, dammit!" Shutting the light off behind him, he made his way back into the living room. It was a wide-open space, populated in places by low furniture and various rugs on the otherwise bare wood floor. The room was empty and lifeless and he moved through it slowly. Walking past their workout area, he lifted a fencing foil from the wall and absently moved through a series of parries and blocks. "No I'm listening. . .We already covered that. . . " He took the phone from his ear and glared at it, the voice inside still audible at arm's length. "I know I have to, but not. . ." Suddenly he stopped and dropped the foil.

"She said what?" His knees weakened and he sank to the ground as the voice repeated the words. Logan flattened himself against the floor and stared at the distant ceiling. He sighed. "What did you tell her?" He chuckled at the response, "I guess that's true enough." Feeling for his injuries, Logan winced into the telephone. "No the swelling's already down. . . yeah, she always said I was thick-headed." With a groan, Logan sat, then stood and walked toward the sofa. Finding a spot he dropped into the wide cushions and continued to listen as the voice continued to rant.

Eventually his patience wore out. "We're not going back there again. . . " He leaned against a pillow, "I'm hanging up now." The voice protested. "Goodnight." Quietly, he pulled the phone from his ear, pressed a button and the line went dead. Dropping the receiver on the floor beside him, he lay down and fell into a dreamless sleep.

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The door opened onto a sleeping Geiar. Still modestly covered by blankets except for one bared leg, her visitor quietly let himself into the room. Not knowing what else to do, Raith stood in the doorway and looked around, an embarrassed cluster of flowers clenched tightly in his hand. He cleared his throat, hoping by some miracle she would wake up. She didn't. Damn. Heavy sleeper, he thought. He didn't relish the thought of watching her sleep, that was Logan's territory. But a certain stab of shame hit him at the thought of sneaking back out of her room undetected. "Coward," he mumbled.

He cleared his throat again and grappled with the flowers in his hand, their fragile stems slowly giving way under the pressure of his grip. She turned in her bed and the blanket rode up to her hip flashing Raith a glimpse of milky thigh. He lowered his eyes. This wasn't getting any easier. Then the door swung forward, the knob nearly goosing him. Raith spun around, ripped the door open and stood face to face with his attacker. A nurse, about a hundred years old, wielding a tray of covered dishes.

Her eyes widened momentarily, then she smiled in the most harmless way as her view darted from the sleeping woman back to the man standing in the doorway. Raith stepped aside and watched as she placed the tray on Geiar's table then delicately covered the sleeping woman before waking her. He shuffled uncomfortably in the near silence.

Geiar turned and looked at him, honest surprise coloring her face when he wagged the still clinging to life bouquet of flowers in her direction. As the nurse took her leave, Raith approached Geiar's bed, careful to maintain some distance between them.

"I. . .uh. . .I brought you these," he muttered, nervously dropping the flowers on her tabletop. Reaching for the mangled bouquet, Geiar drew them to her face and smiled. Raith relaxed.

"Thanks," she answered looking for something to keep them in. They were already wilting she noticed, they could probably use a drink. Not finding any other suitable container, she reached for her pitcher and dropped them in. Geiar smiled victoriously and Raith remembered why he liked her so much. "Care to partake?" she offered lifting the scuffed aluminum lid to her main course. She didn't know what else to do. Raith was standing at the foot of her bed, it seemed, as if he were awaiting further direction.

He walked around the bed, carefully avoiding Logan's chair as he leaned over to view the delicacies she offered. Raith grimaced. "What else do we have here?" Geiar asked amused by his reaction. "Salad. . .and oh look lime Jell-o." She smiled weakly, "with bananas." Geiar stabbed suspiciously at the Jell-o with a fork making the green square writhe on it's little plate. She looked over at Raith and sighed. "This sucks." A full-bodied laugh escaped her visitor as he dropped onto the armrest of the chair and reached for the telephone.

"Chinese, right?" he asked and Geiar nodded, her eyes smiling mischievously at the suggestion. A short while later Raith was fumbling with his chopsticks as Geiar laughed at his efforts.

"Here, let me show you. . ." she began to reached toward his hands but stopped, remembering the last time she had touched him. Drawing her hand back she apologized.

Raith dropped his head and apologized. "I was being an ass." Lifting his eyes, he saw she had her own head down and was studying her chopsticks. "Besides," he stabbed one stick through a piece of chicken and lifted it from the container displaying it to Geiar, "I'm gonna starve if I have to eat like this." He wiggled chopstick-impaled chicken in an effort to get her to relax. She looked over at the wiggling piece of chicken and the man behind it. The icy stare of a week ago was gone, replaced with the soft curving lines of smiling eyes. "How am I supposed to get any rice?" Peals of laughter filled the room as Raith gently offered his hand for Geiar to mold.

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"Take your coat off," she suggested a while after they finished eating, but Raith declined. He was still perched on the armrest of Logan's chair and leaning against an equipment console.

"Not a good idea," he answered, pulling the flap away to reveal a holstered gun. She froze.

"What the hell are you doing?" Her head swiveled toward the door, relieved to find it was still closed. "You don't bring a gun to the hospital!" Geiar's voice was a shouted whisper.

"Who's gonna stop me?" Raith answered, his characteristically crooked grin sliding back onto his face. "Wanna see it?" Without waiting for an answer, he reached inside his coat and pulled the piece out for her examination. He offered it, but she refused.

"Unload it first," Geiar ordered.

"How do you know it's loaded to begin with?"

"You're paranoid enough to bring a gun to the hospital, you think I'm gonna believe it's not loaded?" Another crooked grin flashed across his face as he dropped the clip and emptied the chamber, making sure to show Geiar that there really was no danger of it going off. He offered the pistol to her again and she lifted it timidly from his hand. It dangled from three fingers, as if she were holding the carcass of a dead rat by its tail. She examined the weapon in that undignified manner drawing it closer to her face to study the finer details.

Raith watched as she turned the weapon, then as her fingers curled around the grip securely as her index finger came to rest against the trigger guard. She was surprised to find a certain comfort in the weight of it. Holding it securely, Geiar's other hand caressed the barrel, her fingers following the details of its construction. Without thinking, she pulled back on the slide, examining the empty chamber inside.

Raith was surprised. She handled the piece professionally, instinctively. As if she still remembered her training. The soft click of the slide sliding back into place echoed in the room and was quickly followed by another soft click as the door pushed away from jamb.

"Raith, here!" Geiar said quickly trying to pass his pistol back, but he didn't take it. "Raith!" Geiar grew desperate as the door opened. He smiled and stepped back toward the window. She dropped her hand below the horizon of the mattress as her head spun around to greet the nurse standing in the door. Raith watched maliciously.

From his perch near the window he saw Geiar wag the gun again as the nurse approached. Glaring at him, he raised a pointed eyebrow skyward in response. She scowled. Quickly looking back toward the nurse, Geiar flashed a reassuring smile then deftly tucked the gun under her blankets. Reaching for the untouched dinner, the nurse gave a disappointed look at the both of them. A nearby trashcan brimming with the cardboard remains of their covert meal greeted her as she turned to walk out the door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Geiar hissed after the nurse closed the door. Raith laughed and walked back toward the bed.

"Where is it?" Geiar was the picture of innocence. "What did you do with it?" he asked, a little nervous about the answer. She smiled, reflecting the same grin he had sported a few minutes prior. "Geiar. . . " Slowly, she pushed the table down the bed and pulled the blankets away from her hips. The thin hospital gown barely covered her body as she leaned away from Raith, tilting her bottom up just slightly. His pistol rested beneath her.

"Well go on, get it!" she remarked. Her voice was playful with a venomous undercurrent. His jaw dropped. "I can't stay like this all day."

"Just give it to me already." Raith responded reaching out, but not toward his gun. Geiar shook her head. He realized that if he ever wanted to get it back, he was going to have to get it himself. Stepping closer to the bed, he reached out gingerly trying not to touch the body hovering just above his hand. For the first time he looked honestly nervous, Geiar thought as she dropped her weight back down on top of him. Raith gasped. His hand was sandwiched between his gun and her backside and there was no getting away.

She tugged him down to her eye level. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again," she growled, "the next bullet that leaves that gun will be looking for you!" Wide eyed and duly chastised, Raith nodded.

"Now here's the Geiar I know," he responded, regaining his poise as she lifted herself from his hand and he quickly retrieved the weapon.

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Visiting hours were over by the time Raith needled his way through the parking lot back to his truck. Parked well away from other vehicles, his pickup was unmistakable. Full sized and at least three different colors, not counting the rust, it was intimidation on wheels. A large CB antenna was tethered in a sweeping arc from tailgate to hood and a spray of holes from double ought buckshot were scattered across one side panel. Bloody rust oozed from the wounds of the machine. The only thing really worth saving was the windshield, Sabe insisted, which was replaced just recently after an unfortunate run-in with a former colleague.

Raith pulled the door open and climbed inside. It slammed shut behind him and the dashboard shuddered. With the turn of a key, the engine roared to life and pressed the tires into the road as the truck lumbered out of the parking lot. Headlights gleamed maniacally from the gaping maw of the missing front grill as he rumbled through the city streets.

He turned the radio on. He turned it off again. Too quiet. He turned it back on. Too noisy. "To hell with this," he mumbled as he left it on, but turned the volume to zero.

"It's not like his life revolves around me." Geiar had apologized for Logan. "If he can make it, he can make it. If not, don't worry about it." She sounded casual and for the first time Raith saw beyond the fall of his best friend. The sound of her voice was a backdrop to the freshly minted memories of their last contract.

"We've been waiting to meet you with great interest, Mr. West." the suit announced as he extended his hand to shake. Logan tried to maintain a professional demeanor but a small smirk escaped as he returned the gesture. "Where is the implant?" The delivery took place quickly and soon Logan and Raith rose to leave. They were almost out the door when the suit called them back. They knew what was coming next.

"So how is the patient?" They stopped, but neither man answered. "I bet you're missing her, aren't you?" he sneered, "was she a good fuck?" Logan turned and glared at the suit. "Tell me, is she a screamer? A little whore like that. . .they like to scream." The suit never knew what hit him. Logan flew across the room and laid him cold on the floor before he ever had a chance to stand up.

Raith slowed the truck to take a sharp corner then accelerated again as he passed his own apartment building and headed one more mile down the street.

Headlights flashed past him as the glint of burnished metal reflected in his memory. Security had been summoned to the office when a folding chair, caught in the melee, flew across the room hitting Logan squarely in the side of the head. From the corner of his eye Raith watched his best friend stumble, drop to his knees and fall forward nearly catching himself before he hit the ground.

Anger consumed him at the sight of his fallen comrade. This was no longer a game. Charging mercilessly, Raith dropping the suits as easily as if he were picking off targets at a roadside carney. He didn't even realize Sabe was in the room until he looked around for the next target and saw her crouching over Logan. He groaned when she touched him but otherwise put up no resistance.

The truck pulled up to a curb as the engine thudded to a stop. Three stories up the windows were dark, and cold, and empty. Moments later, Raith lay his knuckles against the battered steel door of a warehouse turned apartment and waited. Inside, Logan stirred on the sofa as the distant banging drew him back into the waking world. Better not be Sabe, he thought as he stumbled toward the door.

Raith grimaced at his friend's condition. "You look like shit," he said as he flipped a switch and lit up the room.

Logan snorted and walked away. "Guess you were right." He moved back to the sofa and dropped his weight into the cushions. Raith followed. "Weakness. . . "

"You got nailed by a chair, West." Logan grimaced at the memory.

"Should've ignored the bastard."

Time passed in silence

"I saw her." He waited for Logan to respond, but he didn't. "Took her flowers even." This got his attention as a chuckle escaped his battered face.

"Going soft?"

Raith growled at the accusation then drew in a tight breath and continued. "I was wrong." Honor, he thought to himself, not only comes with victory but in admitting defeat with grace when necessary. "This thing with Geiar," he was still uncomfortable using the word 'relationship,' "it's not your weakness, it's your strength." Logan laughed at his partner. "When was the last time you got your ass kicked?"

His brown eyes rolled skyward. Logan didn't want to be hearing about past failures, but the incident came to mind immediately. "'Bout this time. . .two years ago," he answered, "that data job. . . "

Raith nodded. "Where was Geiar?"

"Missing."

"Before that?" Logan shook his head, his memory failing him.

"Three. . no. . .four years ago?"

"That stint as protection," Raith offered, "at the chess tournament?" Logan looked over and answered the second, unspoken question.

"Dead. . .we thought she was dead."

"Sabe's right." Raith laughed at the concession. "Since you met her you've needed her. Even if you didn't know it." Raith stood from his seat and made his way back toward the door as Logan trailed behind. He turned the knob in his fist and opened the door. Looking back, Raith rested one hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. "It's time."

End.