Hey there,

Well I've had to break what I've been working on into smaller parts, so this is the next section in Eye of the Beholder. When we last left the story (which was, like in January, ugh) Raith had just persuaded Logan that it was time to tell Geiar the truth about their relationship. This is where that picks up.

All the regular disclaimers apply and I'd rate this section as PG. No sex, no violence except for one minor infringement by Sabe, but then again I doubt she really intended to hurt Raith it was just a warning, lol. The next section will be coming just as soon as I finish tidying it up a bit.

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.

Just after dawn Geiar woke to the unfocused form of a man slouched on her bed. A few blinks later she realized it was Logan asleep by her side, his hand resting above hers; a lifeline to a past she couldn't remember. A sleepy smile played on her face as she toyed with the soft tumbles of his hair. He stirred and she quickly pulled away.

"Don't stop, that felt nice," he mumbled into the mattress and she replaced her hand. This time she was bolder, absently wrapping curls around her fingers making Logan purr.

"The first time I saw you," Geiar said, "you were lying just like that."

"Hmmm?"

"When I woke up in the recovery room. I was so drugged I didn't know where I was, who you were, but I knew I was safe . . .somehow I knew that much."

"I don't remember that," Logan said, straightening himself. He stretched against the back of the chair and raised his arms overhead in an attempt to loosen the muscles that had formed knots as he slept.

"It was just for a minute," she answered seeing his half hidden face. "What's with the shades?"

"Vanity." The word came out behind a joker's smile. Geiar sat up and turned toward him unsatisfied with his hedgy answer. The blanket fell over her legs, which now dangled from the bed and hung loosely between his. Logan moved forward in his chair so that his knees bumped against the side of her bed and held her in a secret embrace. Geiar was pleased with the easy way the morning had started.

"Raith told me what happened, " she said as she leaned closer to him trying to see his eyes through the dark lenses. "Are you alright?" The glasses did much to cover the injury, but in the growing light, the blackened, lacy edges of his bruise overflowed the frames. "You don't have to hide from me," she said, lifting the glasses away. Logan's eyes darted nervously back and forth before settling on the hollows of her throat.

"Oh my God." Instinctively, Geiar cradled his chin in her hand and examined his face. That simple gesture was far more intimate than she had ever been before and she idly wondered if he'd pull away from her again. But he didn't. Instead, he pressed his face into the palm of her hand and closed his eyes.

"I've missed you," he whispered. The slight stubble on Logan's face tickled her palm as she held him, and Geiar wondered how long he'd been asleep there. After a moment Logan straightened again with an embarrassed smile. "Looks like you've got some peach fuzz up there," he said, as he brushed at the newly emerging strands. Geiar grimaced, wishing there was more than peach fuzz covering her scalp. "Ah, well you never knew what to do with it anyway," Logan added. As his hand fell from her forehead it brushed against her face and slowed. Geiar watched his smile fade as he traced the shape of her cheek with a knuckle. He shook his head and pulled away from her.

"I need to tell you something," he said. Logan's voice had taken on a tone of sobriety she hadn't heard before and it made her nervous. Geiar was about to ask what when a sharp knock on the door announced the quick entrance of Dr. Brooks. He waved a clipboard in greeting then immediately approached.

"She didn't do that to you, did she?" Dr. Brooks asked, pointing out Logan's shiner.

"You could say I did it to myself," Logan said, as the doctor stopped walking, confused by the answer. "An unfortunate run in with an inanimate object." He smiled sheepishly, trying to avoid any more questions about the injury. Logan didn't really want to explain how he got cold cocked by a desk chair, and he didn't feel inclined to lie.

"I see." Dr. Brooks studied the bruise a moment longer than shook his head. "Gotta be more careful," he said, and ended discussion on that subject. "So how is the patient today?" He asked, in his usual well-rehearsed tone. Geiar didn't have a chance to answer before he was leaning over her, stethoscope in hand, and listening to her heartbeat. "Good, everything looks good." He flipped pages on the clipboard in a manic sort of way until he found the chart he was looking for. There was a rapid scribble and another quick examination. This time he stood behind her and tilted her head forward, removing the bandage and inspecting his handiwork. Approving noises floated into the air of the hospital room. "Well, Geiar it looks like you're doing great!"

"How great?" She asked, flashing a hopeful glance in Logan's direction.

"How'd you like to go home tomorrow?" He cuddled the clipboard to his chest and the tension and speed of his examination unfurled into a broad grin. "There's a few last things we need to check, but there's no need to keep you any longer." The doctor watched Geiar mirror his smile as he continued talking. "Hospitals aren't the greatest places to recover if you don't have to. Besides, you two have a lot of catching up to do." He glanced knowingly at Logan, then looked away again quickly when his comment was returned with a quiet discomfort. When he saw that reaction, he decided it was time he took his leave. "They should be here after a while for the tests," he said as he made his way toward the door. "It shouldn't take too long."

After the doctor left, Geiar turned her attention back to Logan. "Wonder what he meant by that."

"What?"

"He said 'you two have a lot of catching up to do' . . .What do you have to catch up on?" She asked with a smile. "Seems like I'm the only one without a past around here, or did I miss something?" Geiar heard an unsteady laugh ripple from Logan. "And I guess I ought to find out where home is, if I'm going back." Geiar wasn't looking at anything in particular when she said that. But in the silence that followed, she found she couldn't keep herself from looking to Logan for the answer. He had all the answers, it seemed.

"It's funny, but I just assume I already know that stuff . . .When in reality.. " Geiar looked for something to play with but there was nothing nearby that she could use to calm herself. Finally, she decided to work on smoothing the blankets. "I don't even know where I live anymore. The last thing I remember was my suite in the Alyncorp arcology." A wistful look passed over her face. "Did you ever see it?" She asked.

"No." Logan watched her hands move over the blankets. "After you joined us, you never went back."

"That's right," she said. "I wouldn't have made it out again." Geiar smiled as if she had pulled a fast one over on the corp. then stopped and grew concerned. "Are they still after me?" She asked.

Logan laughed, "I guess Raith didn't tell you everything." Geiar listened as Logan explained. "We came to an agreement," he said. "Your freedom for the chip. It was a big risk but we didn't have a choice. They found you . . .well really they trapped us . . .showed up as a contact and basically gave us this ultimatum." Logan hesitated for a moment, wondering how Geiar was taking this information. When he saw she was steady, he continued. "They would have killed you if you didn't agree to this."

"How generous," she said, her voice salted with sarcasm. "I guess that's the benefits I get for growing up there."

"You could have been dead," Logan reminded her; bitterly aware that she was going back through the same emotions as she did when that deal went down. Alyncorp had been her home; she loved it there and was taken away against her will. She could never go home again no matter how badly she wanted to, and what's more, they wanted her dead because of it.

"So I'm alive." Her voice was flippant. "But they took my life anyway, didn't they?" Geiar didn't expect to hear an argument from Logan, and she didn't. He simply looked at her, his expression soft against the harshness of her statement. Geiar leaned against her pillow and closed her eyes.

She pressed the air from her lungs in one long, slow breath, and Logan knew she was pushing her anger deep inside her. She had always done that, he thought, and he wondered idly how long it would take before she couldn't hold it back anymore. "Tell me about it," she said, her eyes still closed. "What does my place look like?"

"You don't have to keep . . ."

"Just tell me," she snapped. Logan put his hand on hers and Geiar finally opened her eyes, apologizing for her outburst. "I'm okay, really."

"I don't believe you," he said.

"Fine, I'm not okay. Now will you tell me where I live?"

Logan relented. "It's a third story converted warehouse apartment in a building infested with artists." He ended the brief description with a sarcastic flourish.

"Infested!" Geiar stifled a laugh as she defended her mystery home. "That sounds like something Raith might say."

"He agrees with me! Those people drive me crazy, but you like it because of the space." Logan had fallen right into one of their never-ending battles. It wasn't even an argument, not a serious one anyway. It was more like entertainment, a private little joke they shared.

"Be happy they avoid you, then." Geiar retorted, then looked wide-eyed at Logan, wondering where the words came from. Logan brightened, thrilled by her response.

"They'd better or I'll show them the true meaning of the words 'still life'" Logan wagged a loose fist in the air and grinned devilishly hoping that Geiar would respond again. But she didn't. . Geiar kicked at the blankets as a quick-witted answer fell away, uncaught.

"It's been a week." She said. "Nothing."

"It takes time."

"But don't you think I'd remember something?" She punched at the mattress. "Anything?" Frustrated with the fleeting success, Geiar groaned then flopped on her side to face him. "Tell me about it," she asked again. Her voice had taken on the unmistakable tone of defeat. "What does it look like?"

"It's open, lots of room." Logan said. "Actually I think it's the worlds largest studio apartment."

"What?" Geiar was having a terrible time trying to picture the place and his descriptions weren't helping. "It can't possibly be that big!"

Logan chuckled at her surprise. "What can I say? You don't like being closed in. It's long, but narrow, and you have very few walls dividing anything . . .One wall is nothing but windows - Tall skinny ones that go from floor to ceiling. And you have a balcony, but you can't really get to it unless you climb through a window."

"That's pretty stupid, who designed that?" Geiar asked, completely baffled by the rest of his description. Every time she tried to picture this place her suite in the arcology kept coming back to her.

"I don't know, but we've been wanting to fix it." Logan waited for her next question; already certain he knew what it would be.

"We?"

"I live there too," he said.

"How many . . ."

"One bedroom." He answered before she finished asking the question. Even now he couldn't make himself say the truth up front, and Logan hated himself for it. In one brief flash he understood the weakness Raith had warned him about, but that knowledge was powerless against his need for her. Even in this last moment, he wanted to believe she could still be his.

"I don't suppose you sleep on the couch," Geiar asked, trying to crack a joke to belie her sudden nervousness. Questions filled her mind, but she refused to let them spill. The man sitting across from her became a stranger again with one word, "we." Why didn't he say anything earlier, she thought, desperately searching her Swiss-cheese memory for an answer. Nothing came and Geiar was afraid to ask.

An insistent knock on the door made Logan jump, angered by the sudden invasion at such a delicate time. He glared at the intruder, a nurse, who was tugging an empty wheel chair behind her. She smiled brightly at the quiet pair, completely unaware of her intrusion. "It's test time, Geiar!" Her cheerful voice cut into the intimacy of their conversation, and it wasn't until she was answered with silence, that she finally noticed something was wrong. "I'm sorry if I interrupted, but Dr. Brooks needs the results before he leaves today." Geiar continued to look at Logan a moment longer, as if no one had spoken. "If he doesn't get them it means we get to keep you here longer," the nurse said, hoping it would break the ice. Geiar's head snapped to the side and she acknowledged the woman standing in the door. "She'll be back soon, Mr. West." The nurse said as Geiar moved into the chair. Arranging the hem of her gown, she tried to smile at Logan but couldn't.

***

Sabe was sitting curled into the black leather sofa of their midtown office and filing her nails. A converted gas station, it had taken her over a year to get it the way she liked it, but it was well worth the effort. After calling in some favors, adding a second story, and some serious redecoration, it was finally some place she wasn't embarrassed to be caught walking out of. The first story was the garage, and what Sabe called Logan's playground, the area where he worked on the vehicles. The second story was the office proper, although with a few details someone could probably live there. They each had their favorite spots, she noted, and they were pretty easy to tell apart. Geiar's was in the corner sitting at an angle to the largest window in the building. Her desk was topped with a glass so thin it looked like her computer and other few things she had were floating above the concrete floor. She was a minimalist in the true sense of the word and Sabe often worked to get Geiar over her fear of a little decoration. On the corner of her desk was a testament to that ongoing battle, a small stone figurine of a girl holding her knees.

Raith took up residence at the corner where the kitchen meets the rest of the office. Putty grey and old, his beloved fort of battered office furniture allowed him to clearly see everyone else in the office. Sabe had wanted to get rid of the furniture in exchange for something more pleasant to look at. But decided against it when she realized she'd have to find another way to display an alarmingly large collection of weapons, battle mementos and other indefinable things. It was just easier to let sleeping junk lie, she though.

Logan's workbench took up the wall near the door. It was unfortunate that's what people saw when they first walked in, but it worked out well since he spent a lot of time running between his workbench and the garage downstairs anyway. A drafting board sat at one end under a magnifying lamp and several pages of work had been tacked to the wall behind it. The oscilloscope sitting nearby was always on; as if at any moment it could be called into action. But right now it waited patiently as its screen pulsed with the steady, bored beat of inactivity. He was always working on something and the large collection of red shop rags and half empty jar of Lava soap told Sabe this project was pretty messy.

Her own desk was across from Raith's, but Sabe rarely sat there. It was an antique, tall and leggy, with a glossy finish over authentic cherry wood. It housed a date book, camera, an impressive collection of cosmetics and probably the most used telephone in the building. Usually she was more comfortable on the couch, which stood nestled in the center of the room along with two side chairs and a coffee table. Spending her days at a desk didn't agree with her; it made her think she was trying to seem more useful than she often felt. The couch was better; at least from there it made everything feel like she was with friends, not coworkers.

"It's about time he tells her," Sabe said as she continued to work on her manicure.

"You're always doing that, how do you have nails left?" Raith asked, as he presided over the nearly empty office from his desk. "Don't you ever get bored?" His feet dropped from the desktop as Sabe glared at him, then threw her file knifelike across the room. The blade cut into the wall inches above his left shoulder and waved menacingly as he raised a single eyebrow in Sabe's direction. This was the warning shot, Raith thought, and decided against another comment. They had already spent the better half of the morning arguing over Logan and his problems and Raith knew that she wasn't going to let up any time soon.

But what really got him was that she had never even once raised her voice. That bothered him more than anything. He remembered walking into her apartment one morning only to find himself ankle deep in glass; porcelain, crystal, china, nothing breakable seemed to have survived her tantrum. And yet, as he watched her housekeeper sweep up what turned out to be the remains of an engagement gone bad, she floated out of her bedroom dressed to kill and smiling as if life itself was a party. It's just not natural, Raith thought as he pulled the file from the wall and tossed it on his desk.

"If you hadn't given him so much hell about Geiar to begin with, he would have told her sooner." Sabe crossed her arms and turned her back on him, choosing instead to enjoy the view outside rather than endure the one within. She never forgave Raith over the way he treated Logan after he realized his friend loved something more than battle. Especially after all the time, years even, that she had spent trying to get those two together. Sabe concluded that Raith really was a selfish asshole, and jealous, insanely jealous, even if he never admitted to it. She didn't want to believe it, though, and hoped that somehow he'd prove her wrong.

"This warrior code bullshit of yours. You know he looks up to you," Sabe said. Her back was still facing him as she shook her long hair away from her face. Raith watched as a wave of jet rippled down her back.

"He's not a kid, he doesn't look up to me. And it's not bullshit!" Raith grew defensive. It seemed like she was more aggressive than usual today and he wondered why. Nothing had changed since their last 'discussion' and whatever Logan was or wasn't doing was beyond Raith's control. Hell, he thought, he never listened before why should he start now? "In this business you have to have complete concentration or you're dead." He wagged a finger at her from behind his desk trying hard to maintain his calm. It wasn't easy, but he knew getting upset wouldn't provoke anything but more target practice and he knew next time she might actually take the time to aim. Moving uncomfortably in the seat, Raith pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans and placed it on the desktop beside him. As he wheeled the chair back, he propped his feet on the desk again. He stretched his arms behind him and yawned leisurely, like a big cat full from the hunt and ready for a long nap.

"In the business yes, but this isn't business. For Pete's sake, you broke his tooth fighting about it. What good did that do?" Sabe had an endless source of ammunition on Raith and he knew it. "Did working together after that help your concentration any?" She finally turned to face him, but still didn't care for the view.

"That was months ago." Raith brushed the accusation away hoping her will to argue would go right along with it. "Besides things are different now." His voice softened as he dropped off into his own private world. Raith was lost, staring into the vacant space between the tip of his shoe and the edge of his desk. He didn't notice as Sabe approached; her heels clicking lightly against the smooth concrete floor. "How?" She asked. His blue eyes broke from their unfocused stare and sharpened on her question. "You said they're different. Tell me." Rounding the corner of his desk, Sabe sidled up to his outstretched legs.

"They just are." Raith hated her mood changes, he could never tell if she was just being fickle or it was some kind of argument tactic. He couldn't put either one past her. Sabe nudged at his feet until Raith gave up and dropped them to the ground again. Then, she replaced them by sitting on the desk; crossing her slender legs within the narrow confines of her short, black skirt. Bare legs today, Raith noticed, then turned his gaze away from her. He still didn't give her an answer.

"She thinks he broke his tooth in high school," Sabe said, trying to keep the conversation going. "He said he told her something about getting into a fight senior year. I hope she never finds out the truth."

"That's mostly true," Raith added. ". . . Except for the tooth." His mind drifted back to that early December night not so long ago, and the only time he'd ever fought a friend. "There's enough she needs to learn without . . ." Raith stopped in mid thought. "It was never about her."

"It was about you." She was finally getting somewhere.

"I'm not jealous."

"No. Of course you aren't." Her voice was patronizing and Raith cringed, already knowing what was coming next. "You thought you were losing your best friend," she said. Sabe watched from her seat on his desk as Raith left her behind and walked into the kitchen, intent on finding something to eat or simply getting away from her. She followed soon after, and Raith silently counted down the seconds until she started talking again. "Suddenly there was something in his life beyond fighting and you couldn't compete."

"Sounds an awful lot like jealous," he muttered.

"Oh really?" Sabe asked, feigning innocence. "Well then maybe you were jealous after all." She smiled as Raith growled and walked away again. He decided to change the subject.

"This place is dead. I'm gonna take off, need a ride?" He hoped she didn't. The last thing Raith wanted was to be trapped in his truck with her rattling on about how he was jealous of Logan in some mysterious way. But someone or other had dropped her off that morning, and if he didn't offer she'd just have one more thing to complain about.

"No, Eddie's gonna pick me up for lunch." Sabe shrank as the words escaped her mouth. After the morning she'd had with Raith she knew he'd be looking to find something to get her with. Bringing up Eddie was probably the worst thing she could have done for herself just then. Just the mention of his name was enough for Raith to jump on her like a bulldog on steak.

"I thought you dumped that loser." There was something about Eddie that Raith didn't like although he'd never even met the man. Every time Sabe planned for her friends to meet him something unexpected came up. 'Business emergencies,' Eddie said, more often than not. It was the excuse for everything. It was almost like he was avoiding them and Raith didn't like it. "Why are you still with him?"

"He's not a loser," Sabe argued. "He's just very busy." It was her turn to retreat as Raith followed her out of the kitchen. "He has a company to run, you know."

"Isn't that why you dumped him to begin with?" Raith asked. "He wasn't spending enough time with you?"

"Well it doesn't help that his business is in Los Angeles . . .and besides, it's just a favor for Dad." Sabe had given up on ever successfully defending Eddie to Raith. And she wasn't exactly lying, her father did persuade her to give this suitor another chance. Raith came up behind Sabe and watched as she applied lipstick in a nearby mirror. "He's better about that now," she added softly. It always made her nervous when Raith watched her. There was something about the intensity of his stare. Probably the best lie detectors not on the market, she mused as she worked to keep her hand steady. Realizing she couldn't look at her reflection forever, Sabe closed her lipstick and turned around with the hope that he'd let her pass without incident. Instead, he stopped her, his hands wrapping around the curve of her shoulders.

"You're going to be thirty this year, when are you gonna stop living for Daddy?" Raith watched her eyes narrow into emerald slits of anger. "When are you gonna start doing things for Sabe?"

"I already do," she said, her words a little too shaky to believe. "You just haven't met him that's all." Sabe raised a hand to silence Raith before he could respond, she already knew what he would say. He slowly pushed her hand away from his mouth. "He's a good guy," she said as confidence returned to her voice.

"Then I'll meet him today," Raith answered. "When he picks you up. I'll wait with you."

"Fine." Sabe collected her purse and coat as Raith made his way toward the door of their office. The walk down the stairs and through the garage was quiet, as if they both worried about the outcome of this introduction. A few minutes later a short limo slid up to the curb and the driver got out to open the door for Sabe. She flashed a bright smile at Raith then approached the door. He watched her talk to the person inside for a minute, her hands a flurry of expression. Then she was still. From inside the limo a figure reached out and waved, casually, toward Raith, then reached for Sabe's hand and pulled her inside. She glanced back quickly before the driver closed the door. Raith stood on the curb and watched the limo pull away before walking back into the garage for his truck. He couldn't help but notice she wasn't smiling when she looked back at him.

***

Logan woke to the sound of the knob turning in the door and he was halfway through a stretch by the time Geiar and her nurse came into the room.

"Well I think they got every picture of me imaginable including close up and panoramic." Geiar said as she flashed a bandaged forearm his way. "Not to mention the vamp attack." She was smiling again, Logan noticed.

"Don't forget the psych battery." The nurse added as Geiar jumped from her wheelchair into her waiting bed.

"Oh, right, get this. They did that inkblot test on me!" She was giggling. "The first one I told them looked like my father flying over the Washington monument eating a banana!" Geiar tried to maintain a look of innocence. "They only showed me one card," she said. "I wonder why?"

Logan couldn't help but laugh. Although her joking made him worry that she was already pulling away from him. Geiar liked to think she could handle things, and for the most part she could. But he knew that sometimes, especially when she needed someone the most, she was least likely to want them there. Logan had seen it happen before, and it seemed like they were heading down the same street.

The nurse quietly let herself out as Geiar explained briefly the various things she was forced to endure. When she was done however, the room was quiet as they both struggled to find something to keep the conversation going. They weren't successful.

Dinner came a while later and Logan joined her with some carryout from the hospital cafeteria. He decided it had probably been a burrito at one time, but now he'd have to do a few tests of his own to be sure. Why does hospital food always look like it needs medical attention, Logan mused. Geiar was poking at her daily Jell-O square. Today it was lemon with red grapes suspended oddly in the mix and looking like something from a low budget science fiction movie. He waited for the questions to start coming. It didn't take long.

"We lived together."

"Yes." Lived. He hated that she was using the past tense.

"How long?" She was approaching this very calmly, but Logan couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad sign.

"I moved in before Christmas."

"It's only March." She pushed the table away from her as she leaned back into the pillow not exactly satisfied with dinner but no longer hungry. "So what are we, fuck buddies?" Geiar didn't know where the bitterness was coming from and she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Daring to take a glance at Logan, the hurt in his eyes only added to her remorse. She shuffled uncomfortably under the thin blanket before continuing. "I mean . . .What am I to you?"

"You're my fiancée." He pulled the small ring from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. "This is yours," he said. "You asked me to keep it for you." He neglected to tell her that she said she'd want it back.

"It's pretty." She said. "But . . ."

"I know." He waved her words away as if to erase the thought from the air. "It's alright."

"Is it really?" She asked.

"No. But what can I do?"

"I'm sorry." Her hand shook lightly as she dropped the ring back into his open palm. The rest of the evening was spent silently as Geiar struggled to come to grips with this new information. Why hadn't he told her earlier, she asked herself. Maybe he wanted out. It wouldn't surprise her if that was it, she didn't even remember who he was, why would he want to stick around? But he seemed saddened by her reaction, as if he secretly hoped she'd keep the ring, or maybe even just smile at him. She couldn't even do that anymore. The day had started out so promising, Geiar thought, what a way for it to end.

***

Logan checked his watch. "Visiting hours are almost over. " He said. Geiar watched him ease into the black duster, which until now had been draped across the burnt orange chair near the foot of her bed. The soft black leather hung loosely from his dropped shoulders as he slowly began making his way toward the door.

"It's so early," she replied. Despite the shock of what she had learned that night, Geiar didn't want to see him go. Of course, she didn't do much to make him stay. Whatever kind of relationship they may have had, now or in the past, she let it die in the silence that followed his admission.

Logan's hand rested loosely on the knob. He didn't look at her, although he turned his head just far enough to catch her figure in the corner of his eye. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked, still holding on to the doorknob.

"I don't even know how it happened," she said. "Would you tell me?"

"It was a job, just me and Raith. We were doing some work on the side to pay off some bills." Logan still wasn't looking at her. "It was just a few months ago, not even a year." He said. "You weren't supposed to know about it and we didn't think you did."

"Why not?" "We'd been hired to obtain a book." He explained. "The book had a reputation for being connected with occult activity and the occult is hobby of yours."

"Cthulu?" Geiar sighed quietly, relieved as Logan's interest in her question drew him back into the room.

"Yes, how did you know?" He returned to his chair and leaned into her, curious. Geiar motioned to the box sitting in the corner of the room.

"Some stuff written down in the notebook," she said. "But I don't know what it means." Geiar moved to get up and retrieve the notebook from the box, but Logan beat her to it. Thumbing through the pages she pointed out a few cryptic passages then looked toward him for an explanation. He briefly considered just starting over and explaining her past six years with the group in one fell swoop, but decided against it. There had been enough surprises for one day, he didn't want to even begin to try and explain Cthulu.

"Well, at the very best you'd have wanted to come with us. At the worst, you'd have wanted to keep the book." Logan didn't mean to chuckle. "We needed the cash so we figured that if you just didn't know about it, it would be easier for all of us."

"I suppose I can see the logic in that." Geiar was privately insulted that Logan and Raith didn't believe she could control herself, but then again not even she knew how she would have reacted.

"The big surprise was that you knew about it all along."

End.