CHAPTER 7

Max sat alone in Logan's office, missing him. For all the obvious reasons, and also because Logan was a great guy to have on your side in a crisis. Funny, she thought. Before, my big problem was getting him on my side to begin with. Lately he hasn't given me a hard time about my family at all and now I'm the one messing it up, worrying all the time about the freaking virus and screwing up and killing him accidentally.

I could have used him tonight but it's better this way, she thought. This was the rule she lived by now: one moment of distraction was all it would take, one moment that could never be taken back, one moment that would change everything, forever. The work to be done tonight wasn't worth that kind of risk, not when there were other people to help. Let Grace figure out how to get this girl back where she belonged, and let Alec help her do it. She'd do whatever she could, but mostly she just wanted to get the girl the hell out of Logan's apartment as quickly as possible. It was one thing for Logan to help out now and then when a transgen was on the run, but this was different. This girl was famous and the last thing Max wanted was to bring the entire Metro police force down on either one of them.

A few minutes ago she'd asked Alec what he thought of taking Isabelle to Joshua's. Not much, it turned out. "Bad idea, Maxie," he informed her. "Old Dog Boy would scare the sh -- " a look at Grace "-- I mean, scare her to death. You don't want her running home to tell Daddy about that."

"Who's Joshua?" Grace asked.

"Transgen. Canine DNA," Max said briefly before Alec could give some kind of smartass answer. She didn't feel like playing around right now.

"Good luck getting her to go anywhere she doesn't want to go," Alec said. "She's untrained, but she's every bit as strong as you or me, and rich and spoiled rotten too." He disappeared into the kitchen, where Max heard him opening the refrigerator and offering Logan's food to Isabelle. That bugged her, but at least it would keep the pair of them busy for a few minutes.

Oh, why can't someone else take care of this, she thought, longing to go home to that hot bath and a long phone call with Logan. A conversation she could enjoy with him safely on the other end of the phone instead of close by, way too close by, freaking her out every time he even looked in her direction.

She didn't realize she had wished out loud until Grace said, "I have a suggestion."

"What?" Oh God, she had completely forgotten that Grace was still sitting there, on the floor for some reason. She didn't like to think about Grace, which was why she did so as little as possible.

"A suggestion. For what it's worth."

"Sure, whatever," Max agreed, only half-listening.

"Well," Grace began, "at the hospital, Psych has to deal with this sort of thing all the time. There are basically two approaches they use."

"Which are?" Maybe she ought to pay attention. She certainly wasn't coming up with anything on her own.

"Number one, force. Don't argue, just call the police. Report that you've got the missing girl. I know she threatened you but I'm here, right? Whatever she says, I just keep telling the cops that she's unstable. Hysterical. We take her right back to the hospital and it's all over."

Max considered. It might work but she wasn't in the mood to roll the dice tonight. She shook her head. "No cops anywhere near this place."

Grace nodded. "Okay, then. That leaves approach number two. Persuasion."

"As in?" At Manticore, "persuasion" came in many forms, not all of them nice. As if reading her thoughts Grace said,

"The nice kind and the not-so-nice kind. We play along a little bit, but at the same time we're backing her into a corner where she can't ignore the down side. Then we get someone she trusts to talk her out and back to Metro Medical where she belongs."

They both looked down the hall to the kitchen. Isabelle sat on the table, looking at Alec with undisguised interest, laughing as she ate. Max nodded thoughtfully. She'd have to figure out the details, but something along those lines just might work. "Well," she said. "Maybe we'll be dropping by Joshua's house tonight after all."

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Later Kara told herself that she had started out the evening with only the best of intentions. All she meant to do was pick up one package, drop off the other, and get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. She didn't much want to go out, and she really didn't feel like dealing with Logan Cale, but Julie needed that favor. Later she decided that if Cale had just shown up in the wheelchair like she was expecting, nothing else would have happened. Not that it was his fault. It was just that seeing him on his feet took her by surprise, and made her reconsider what exactly might be in that envelope.

The guy was supposed to be an investigative journalist, but come on, exactly how much investigation had he been doing stuck in a wheelchair? She had read some of his pieces a couple of years ago and they were pretty much what you'd expect, in her opinion: earnest and academic, abstract and a little dry, like a grad school paper based mostly on Internet research. Which was probably all he was really able to do.

So Kara hadn't thought there would be much of anything useful in the envelope for Julie, nothing that couldn't have been emailed. Since the Pulse most Internet traffic had been either too unstable or too easy to hack; nobody used it for information that needed to be secure. When information came on paper, these days, it meant something. Something other people weren't supposed to see. Maybe this guy had started to do some real investigation after his health improved.

And that was why, after she got back in her car and got the heat running, Kara slipped open the envelope with Julie's name on it and looked.

At first, in the pinkish glow of the parking lot lights, she could hardly read anything. She flipped through the pages quickly, scanning, already feeling a little ashamed of herself for poking into Julie's business. And then she saw the page with the address and the directions. Suddenly she was excited. Could this be what Julie had been searching for, the location of the Steelhead hangout? Before she really had time to think over what she was about to do, she was pulling out of the parking lot and heading out of the sector.

She had a pretty good idea where the address was. Of course it was night and she was alone, but she wasn't going to get out of the car or anything. She was just going to take a look, see if there was anything to see. She even stopped for some takeout coffee just in case she ended up sitting in the car for a while and needed to stay awake.

There wasn't much of anything going on when she reached the street. She managed to squeeze the car into a tight space without scraping any paint, though God help her if she had to get out of there in a hurry.

And then she sat. For a long time.

At first she was excited and alert, but as the minutes passed, the car got colder, and nothing moved on the street except for the occasional rat digging through garbage, she started to get bored. She didn't even realize she had fallen asleep until she jerked awake suddenly, her neck stiff and the side of her mouth damp with drool. Wiping it away, she took a sip of the coffee. Ice cold. "Yuck," she said to herself, hoarsely. Time to get out of here.

Another cup of coffee before the long drive across town wouldn't be a bad idea. Kara remembered seeing an all-night grocery at the end of the block. There was absolutely no one around. How dangerous could it be to run down there, grab another cup, and head on home to start packing? Not very, she congratulated herself five minutes later, walking back up the block to her car with the steaming coffee burning her hand -- and still not a soul around.

And then she heard them. Steelheads, three of them, weaving drunkenly around the corner and down the street, singing at the top of their lungs.

Fortunately, in their condition, they hadn't seen her. Frantically she looked around for a place to hide. There was a dark alleyway just a few feet ahead of her, the kind of place that normally gave her the creeps, but if she wanted to keep watching it was her only choice. Bending low behind a dumpster, she scooted into the alley. It stank of garbage and urine and she felt broken glass crunching underfoot, but she had a clear view of the loud procession coming down the street right towards her. She was fascinated. She hoped they got good and close so she could look at all that glittering metal.

And then someone behind her said quietly, "What are you doing here?"

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The group of four looked just like any friends out for an evening's fun. The attractive couple: the blond girl holding the cute guy's arm possessively. The single friends: the energetic dark-haired girl and the quiet brown-haired one following a few steps behind. Only if you looked closely could you see signs of conflict and frustration as the four made their way past bars and nightclubs. Max, Grace, Alec, and Isabelle were on their way to Joshua's house.

They couldn't argue openly on the street, which was a relief to Grace, considering the number of ugly things that had been said back at Logan's apartment when Max put her plan into action. The plan itself was simple: take Isabelle to Joshua's. Let her get cold, tired, hungry, bored, and maybe even scared. Then have Alec gently convince her that returning to Metro Medical would solve all of these problems. Alec and Max would get her as far as the door, after which Grace would bring her back upstairs. Grace wasn't sure how she felt about handling the cover story all alone, but Max looked at her in amusement when she brought that up.

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "You lie all the time. You're pretty good at it too, otherwise I wouldn't let you do it."

Grace didn't have an answer for that, unlike Alec who laughed scornfully when Max summoned him to the office.

"You're obviously not listening to me," he said. He turned to Grace. "Did I not just make myself clear about this fifteen minutes ago? She doesn't want to go. Have I not said 'no' to this already?" This with a lot of exaggerated gesturing. Then, turning back to Max: "What am I missing here? Aren't you the champion of every downtrodden transgenic in the state of Washington? But you don't want this one to be happy?"

"She's not downtrodden. She's a spoiled rich kid who needs to go home to her parents," Max began.

"What's this really about, huh?" For some reason Alec was beginning to get angry, Grace saw. "It's about her, isn't it?" He jerked his head towards Grace. "You don't want her anywhere near your man. Not that I blame you, considering," he added. "But you know, if you would just let nature take its course, it would sure make life simpler for all of us."

"What's that mean?" Max demanded. She was beginning to sound pretty angry too.

"Aw, come on. Do I have to spell it out for you?" He looked at Grace and back at Max. Meaningfully, except that Grace had no idea what he meant.

"Apparently you do," Max returned, eyes narrowed.

"Fine. Why don't you just accept the way things are? Let her have him. Let them read their boring books together and live their ordinary lives together and just stop all this melodrama and angst about the --"

"Shut up." Grace had never heard Max so coldly angry. "Just shut up!" She advanced towards Alec. "Here's the way things are. You are going to help us get her to Joshua's house or I will call the police and tell them you kidnapped her. And Grace will back me up every step of the way. Do you really want to see whether the cops will take your word against a chaplain's?"

For a moment Grace thought Alec would keep pushing it. Then he gave in, ungraciously. "I'm warning you, you won't get anywhere with her," he said, pointing towards the kitchen.

But Max did. She told Alec to bring Isabelle to the office. This time, instead of "sucking up" to Isabelle (as she explained it to Grace) she was commanding, decisive. "Sit down, all of you. There's not much time," she said dramatically. "The longer we stay here, the more danger we're in. We've got to move, and move now."

"Where are we going?" Isabelle demanded. "Cause I'm not going back to that hospital."

"No, you're not," Max agreed. "We're all going to another place. It's safe there. Much safer than it is here," she added confidentially.

Isabelle argued. Logan's place was nice, even if he was stricter than her parents. Max was firm. Isabelle got upset. She cried. She called Grace a spy and Max a control freak, and finally, a bitch. Max repeated her dire warnings. Finally Isabelle's fear got the better of her snobbery and she agreed to cooperate. Grace actually heard Max breathe a sigh of relief as they closed the apartment door and stepped into the elevator.

Amen to that, Grace thought. It had to get better now.

For a while, it did. No one spoke during the long walk, except once when Max said to Grace,

"Sorry about that, before."

Why is she apologizing for him? Grace wondered. "What's he so angry about?" she asked.

"Dunno, and, don't really care," replied Max.

"Ummm ..." Grace hesistated. She wasn't really sure she wanted the answer to this question, but she couldn't stop thinking about it either. "What was that stuff he said about my books?" she finally asked.

Max looked at her. "You know you were watched over the summer."

"Yeah?"

"He searched your apartment on orders from Manticore. And your office."

"You said that was you."

"I lied," Max said cheerfully.

"Oh," Grace answered, and that was the last thing anyone said until they reached Joshua's.

"Transgen. Canine DNA" didn't begin to describe the giant shaggy creature who answered their knock. Isabelle, as predicted, was terrified, which Joshua didn't help any by hovering anxiously around her, trying to make friends. Finally Max lured him out of the living room while Alec calmed Isabelle's fears. Grace was too tired at that point to know how she felt about him, or Isabelle either for that matter. Something to think about later, she promised herself.

Eventually Isabelle relaxed enough to pout about the dust and the lack of amenities and not having anything to do, until Max went out and got her some chips and soda and a couple of magazines. At that point a minor miracle occurred, when Isabelle discovered that Joshua was fascinated by celebrity photos and even more enthralled when she began telling him stories about the celebrities her father knew. "More downlow, please," he would request every time Isabelle stopped for breath. Finally, satisfied, Max nodded at Grace.

"Come on, let's get out of here," she said, and they headed for the front door. They were two steps behind Alec.

"Where are you going?" Max demanded.

"Home," Alec said, reaching for the doorknob.

"Oh no you're not. Someone's got to stay here with those two tonight or she'll walk all over him."

"You do it."

"Can't. Normal asked me to work tomorrow morning and I need the money, since someone whose name I won't mention blew all my cash --"

"Fine." Alec was clearly annoyed. "Have a nice evening. Hot shower, good night's sleep. Or are you headed back to Sector 9 to make sure a certain journalist doesn't hook up with his old girlfriend again?"

"Girlfriend?" Grace hadn't heard Joshua leave the other room, but now he stood there at the door, towering over them in a slightly threatening way.

Alec said carelessly, "Yeah, Grace here is an old girlfriend of Logan's --"

"Girlfriend?" roared Joshua. The last half-hour with Isabelle had made the meaning of that word perfectly plain to him. Before anyone could stop him he pushed Grace back against the wall, shouting, "Grace and Logan! That's not the plan!"

"Joshua!" Max called sharply, and he stopped pushing, though he didn't let go. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Grace is our friend. Grace knows what the plan is. Right, Grace?" Behind Joshua's back she raised her eyebrows, mouthing something. It took Grace a second or two to realize Max was saying her own name.

"The plan," Grace said breathlessly. "Uh, Max and Logan, that's the plan." Max nodded approvingly. Alec rolled his eyes.

"Yes," said Joshua fiercely. "Max and Logan, that's the plan." Emphasis on the "Max." He released Grace but he was watching her every move.

"Grace, you go on, " Max said. "I'll meet you here at noon tomorrow when I get off work, okay?"

Gratefully, Grace let herself back out into the quiet dark night.

Kara's heart stopped momentarily when the voice said, "What are you doing here?"

A few breathless seconds was all it took her to realize that Logan Cale was also hiding in the alley. She resumed breathing, eyes riveted on the approaching trio. "Shhhh, they're coming," she silenced him.

Down the street they wobbled, drunk, loud, and careless, pounding on cars, kicking garbage, shouting. The closer they got the better Kara could see the wild variety of studs and plates covering their faces and bodies, especially the curved metal spikes extending from the girl's head. For a thrilling moment she thought they were going to walk right past her, but at the last second they turned and stumbled up a short flight of steps, disappearing with a final howl into the building Kara was leaning against. The street was silent again.

"Looks like the show's over. What do you say we get out of here and go talk about this somewhere?" Cale said in her ear.

Kara had no intention of leaving. Ignoring him, she turned to look into the darkness of the alley. Sometimes, in these old neighborhoods, the narrow passageways between buildings led to inner courtyards or even alleyways that ran parallel to the street. She might be able to see or even get into the Steelhead building from the rear. "Hang on, I'll be right back," she whispered, and disappeared into the blackness.

Logan leaned back against the brick wall of the adjoining building to wait. It was one thing for him to duck quickly into a dark spot and hope there wasn't anything he was going to trip over, and another thing entirely to go exploring down a pitch-black passageway full of broken glass and worse. What he really wanted to know was how she had ended up here tonight, and why. And that he could do without risking his neck in some filthy alley.

The crunching stopped and he heard an echoing metallic rattle, followed by silence, then the rattle and the crunch again. Kara materialized beside him, breathless. "I found it. Come on," she announced.

"No thanks," Logan refused. "Now let's --"

"Come on!" Kara was emphatic. "This leads back behind the building. They're in the rear and you can see everything. Hurry up!"

Logan hesisated. A fall in the dark, besides cutting his butt to ribbons, might damage the exo beyond repair, or at least beyond his current means to repair it. Still, the thought of looking directly into the Steelheads' windows -- and what he might see there -- made his heart jump so hard it hurt. Screw it, he thought. Impetuous Kara would be only too glad to lead the way. If he followed her carefully he would probably be all right. He could just do a little reconnaissance and come back in daylight. Or with a flashlight at least.

"All right," he said, and Kara immediately moved down the alley, Logan following close behind. A dim opening began to appear in front of and above them. "Going down," Kara hissed, and they descended a set of metal steps that was more like a ladder than a stairway. But he was more confident now, because they had reached an inner alley, where light shining from various windows gave enough illumination for him to see his feet. At the bottom of the steps Kara stopped and pointed behind them. "There," she said.

There in two huge, brightly lit windows were the Steelheads -- or rather, the heads of the Steelheads. Logan and Kara were now below ground level, so that even ground-floor windows were above their heads. What Logan could see was mostly a peeling ceiling and the occasional flash of the Steelhead girl's silver hair.

"Not much of a view," he commented.

"Just a minute." Kara pointed across the alley. The building directly behind them was mostly dark, with only a few windows lit by dim, flickering light. Squatters with candles, Logan realized. The building had no power.

Directly across from them, well above their heads, were two dark, yawning holes. Open windows. Kara waved at them in triumph.

"How are we going to get up there?" Logan asked.

"Look." With a cautious glance at the Steelhead windows, Kara pulled him a few steps down the alley, where the remains of a rusted fire escape lay tangled. The pull-down ladder that would have reached from the second floor to the ground lay a few feet away. "If we prop this up against the side of the building, we can climb right in that window," she said confidently.

He had to be crazy, he had to be completely out of his mind, but he helped her drag the ladder over to the window and prop it up, then held it in place while she climbed on.

"Hand me that coffee," she whispered, pointing at the spot where she had placed her cup. "Might be a long night."

She went right up, set the cup on the windowsill, hoisted herself over. A moment later her head appeared in the window. "No one here. Come on up," she called quietly, steadying the top of the ladder.

The climb up didn't bother him nearly as much as the walk down the alley had. He could see his feet, and once at the top he used his upper body to lift himself up over the sill and down into the dark apartment. Still, he wished Max was there. She would have been a hundred times more skilled at this than he ever would have been, even under the best of circumstances.

They caught their breath for a moment and then, keeping to the shadows, looked out into the Steelheads' lair. The party continued unabated. Logan wasted little time on it, instead scanning the rooms for signs of "the machine" that had haunted his thoughts for weeks now. Though the space across the alley was brightly lit, it was too far away to see much detail. When he came back he would bring binoculars.

Then something scraped behind them. Alert, Kara asked, "What's that?"

They both turned, fearing that whoever called this place home was returning, but instead all they saw was two eyes gleaming in the dark. "Alley cat," Logan said, and with that the eyes winked out.

"Whew," said Kara, turning back to the window.

Logan did the same, and then it happened. There was a horrible yowling sound and something bumped his arm, hard. He saw a flash of sooty yellow on the windowsill and heard Kara exclaim, "Shit!" There was a loud scrape of metal on brick and she dived towards the window. Suddenly he understood. He must have stepped on the cat's tail, and now the cat in its panic was knocking down their ladder. He lunged for Kara, grabbed her around the waist, and hung on while she groped desperately out the window. Too late. There was a deafening metallic clang as the ladder hit the cement alley floor.

"Shit!" Kara cried again. Logan let go of her and she slid back into the room, ducking into the shadows. "Damn cat -- oh my God, are you all right?" she cried.

"What?"

"The coffee! I spilled it on you! Did it burn you?"

Now he noticed the strong smell of coffee in the air. He quickly ran his hand down his legs, and sure enough, the right leg was warm and wet. Well, he wasn't about to drop his pants and check for burns in front of her.

"I'm fine," he said, hoping it was true. "Must have cooled off."

"Are you sure -- hey!" she interrupted herself. Her attention was back on the windows across the alley. "They're going somewhere!" she announced, and before he could reply she was stumbling through the dark room, away from the window. "If there's another window over here --" he heard her mutter, and briefly saw her silhouetted against a doorway leading to another room. Then the doorway was empty.

He took advantage of her absence to quickly check his leg. It seemed all right. Then his fingers touched his pocket, where he'd hurriedly stashed his cell phone before leaving the car. The phone was damp and sticky. Milk and sugar in the coffee, no doubt. He pulled it out and tried to get a signal. Nothing. Damn.

Another flurry of banging and clattering came from the next room, and then Kara's voice: "Come here! You won't believe this!"

He tried to step forward, heard the high-pitched whine, sensed the resistance. Great. The coffee must have shorted out the main servomotor at the hip. He knew what was going to happen next.

From the other room Kara called impatiently, "What's keeping you? Get your ass in gear, will ya?"

There was a crackling noise and a burned smell, and then he began to pitch forward, the way you did when you were roller skating and hit an unexpected bump. Fortunately he was still close to the window, and by throwing his right arm backwards and aiming for the windowsill, he was able to break the fall somewhat. Landing made his teeth jar, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He'd bitten his tongue. Scraped his hand, too. Logan sighed. Unfortunately, his ass wasn't going to be in any kind of gear right at the moment.

"What was that?" Kara called in alarm from the other room.

"I tripped," he replied, rubbing his sore hand.

"Too late anyway. You missed it." He heard her coming back. He'd have to explain this new development to her eventually, but first he wanted to know exactly how much trouble they were in.

"Is there a front door to this place?" he asked.

More sounds, this time rattling, and Kara finally reappeared. "Must be padlocked shut from the outside," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Well, it's okay. I'll just call someone from the station to come and crowbar us out of here -- hmmmm." She stopped.

"What?"

"Can't find my phone. I know I brought it from the car -- oh no."

"What?"

Kara rushed to the window, looked down, and smacked her fist on the windowsill. "Dammit, my freaking phone's down there! Must have fallen out of my jacket when I was trying to get the ladder." She grimaced. "Okay, no big deal, give me your phone, or do you have a friend we can call?"

Logan allowed himself a moment to imagine just what Max would say if he called her right now. Then, wordlessly, he held up his phone in the dim shaft of light coming through the window. Coffee dripped from it. Kara's eyes widened.

"Are you kidding me? We're stuck in here with no phones and no way out?"

"Yes, and there's something else you should know," he began. "I can't walk."

"What do you mean? Did you hurt yourself falling?"

"No. My legs are paralyzed --"

"What?" She was incredulous. "Ten minutes ago you climbed a ladder, so what the hell are you talking about?"

He explained. By the time he finished, she looked like she was ready to tear the front door off the hinges herself. "This just sucks," she groaned. "What the hell are we gonna do?" It was more of a rhetorical question than anything else, but he answered it.

"We're going spend a lot of time watching Steelheads tonight," he said.

Grace went home and fell into bed, too exhausted to move but wide-awake all the same. The last twenty-four hours were a blur of random details flashing through her mind: the blinding lights of the cameras at the news conference, the smell of Logan's coffee at the diner, Max and Alec arguing, Isabelle undressing in Logan's kitchen, the crazy beeping of the computers, the freckles on Joshua's snout. Joshua's snout, for that matter.

She remembered this feeling from her night on the mountain with Max. The adrenaline rush that kept you going, kept you focused until everything else in the world fell away -- every thought, every feeling, anything in you that might have wondered what you were doing and why you were doing it. Until you were all about action. That was how she had been in at Logan's apartment, and how she was now, here alone in the dark.

It was shock, she knew. It made you numb, which she had been most of the time she was in Logan's apartment. She could hardly remember getting home.

But after a while, the quiet began to calm her. Gradually her breathing slowed, her heart stopped pounding, and the frantic scenes replaying in her head wound down.

Now that she had some control over her thoughts, she tried to reflect. All evening she had kept expecting to have some kind of reaction to what she was seeing -- Isabelle's wings, Joshua's canine features -- but after a momentary wonder, she had accepted the transgenics without much thought. For all their strange appearance, their behavior hadn't been freakish at all. It had been very human.

And the truth was, it was harder, much harder, for her to accept that human nature than it was for her to accept a snouted face or a permanent barcode.

Or a wheelchair, for that matter.

Now the memory she had kept at a distance all evening came into her mind. This time she didn't push it away. She saw, once again, Max and Logan walking down the hallway. Together.

At first just thinking about it hurt like crazy. It felt like it had all happened at once, as if the conversation in the diner had ended with Max and Logan walking away from her, already completely caught up in each other, while Grace sat forgotten. Suddenly her heart was pounding again and she could hardly catch her breath. It wasn't fair! For that few weeks over the summer it had seemed so easy. Do good, and the universe was good to you. Except that ever since then the universe seemed to be taking a lot of pleasure in slapping her around. If some special destiny really had brought Max and Logan back into her life, or her into theirs, destiny certainly didn't feel obligated to make it any fun for her.

In what way did she deserve this? She had done the right thing -- set aside her own feelings, bent over backwards to help Max. So why wouldn't the universe leave her alone? Why was she mixed up in their lives again? Just to have the truth shoved in her face?

But she didn't cry. She was too angry.

Of course she had always known he loved Max. That something terrible weighed on his heart had been plain from the moment he opened his eyes in the hospital bed, even though she hadn't known then what it was. And he had finally told her the story, or at least the part of it that mattered, even before they were together. Oh yes, Max had always been with them. But until today Grace had always believed that they were all in it together, all victims of bizarre circumstance. Never had it crossed her mind that Logan might use her, or deliberately expose her to hurt.

And knowing that -- why wouldn't her own heart leave her alone?

Because she loved him. She knew that now.

How could she have not seen it, all these months?

Some part of her heart always had known, she thought, remembering again that morning in the hospital. "Where am I? What happened to me?" Those were usually the first two questions a person asked, waking up in a hospital. But not Logan. All he had cared about was the last thing he remembered, holding Max in his arms.

That had been the beginning for her. Even when she had pretended otherwise, her thoughts had hardly ever left him since then. She had been drawn to him from the start. What was it Bling had said? "He's got a way of making you care about him."

She remembered some dreams she'd had over the summer. All of them were about looking for Logan but never quite finding him -- knowing he was nearby but not where she could see him, seeing him across a room but with a crowd between them, hearing other people say he had just left the place where she was. At the time she had dismissed them as symbolic of Logan's closed, private nature. Now with a sudden thrill of recognition she saw the dreams in a different light. They had been about her too, and her reluctance to seek him out.

Some part of her must have understood that revealing his secrets would threaten her.

There it was, the irony. Would she ever have loved him so much if he hadn't loved Max first? Probably not. Because that was what she loved the most about him, the way he had seemed to find, somehow, some way, in spite of a permanently damaged body and a love lost forever, enough courage to go on for another day.

What she had seen tonight, then, was only another aspect of that love.

And what he had told her today ... well, every light had a shadow, and this was the shadow of his strength, that he would do whatever he had to do for Max's sake. Nothing personal, she told herself, in fact you should feel honored. It bothered him to do it, he said. He wouldn't have felt that way about just anyone.

Still, that wasn't much comfort. Because now she understood, as she never had before, that she could love him all she wanted to, but he was never going to love her back. Had she allowed herself to get involved in this whole Isabelle affair expecting that gratitude and circumstance would somehow tie him to her, even if love could not? Well, she'd been quite mistaken about that. And it was long past time for a cold hard look at her situation.

Feeling more lonely and foolish by the second, she thought over the last day. She was an embarassment to Max and Logan, Joshua hated her, Alec was laughing at her and her books, Isabelle thought she was a spy, and worst of all, she was now a conspirator in the disappearance of a thirteen-year-old girl. If Norris ever found out, she would be out of a job just like that.

She wasn't going to be loved. She knew that now. But even as the ache of loss began to settle around her heart, she told herself: that doesn't mean you have to lose everything else. As exhaustion overtook her, she promised herself that come morning, she would begin to set things right.

And then she finally slept.

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Kara Bennett woke as the first gray light of dawn filtered in through the empty windows. The moment she realized where she was, gloom descended on her heart. In her day she'd greeted the day in some pretty down-and-out places, but this was a winner. Good Christ, how could she have gotten herself into this mess? She'd gone through Julie's papers, trapped herself in this dump with no way out and no phone, and now on top of everything else she had this helpless guy on her hands. The thought of having to take care of him until they could be rescued made her skin crawl.

She sat up and looked around. He was asleep, lying next to the wall under the window. The cell phone was beside him. Quietly she reached over and picked it up, hoping for a signal, but it was still dead. She watched him for a moment before replacing it. She had to admit he'd been a pretty good sport last night, hadn't complained at all or asked for any help, but still. How on earth was she going to get him out of here? Better yet, was there any way she could get out of getting him out of here?

As if she had spoken aloud, he opened his eyes, cleared his throat. "Morning," he said, reaching for his glasses. "What do you say we get started figuring out how to get out of here?"

Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that. "Sure," she said, and got up stiffly. Nothing like spending all night on your back on a hard floor. And then having to do all the work come morning.

In daylight they could see that the place had been used by squatters, or worse, fairly recently. Whoever had padlocked it shut hadn't bothered to clean it out first, which was a good thing for them. Somewhere in all that trash had to be their means of escape.

Kara found an old wooden kitchen chair with a splintered seat and part of the back missing, which she dragged over by the window where Logan still sat on the floor. It didn't look very comfortable, but if the guy couldn't feel his own butt, a busted seat couldn't make that much difference. Was she supposed to help him get up? she wondered apprehensively. And if so, exactly how did something like that work? But to her relief she never found out.

"Thanks," he said in a tone that suggested he didn't need any assistance, and Kara headed for the other room as fast as she could. If he was about to struggle pathetically, she didn't want to see it.

Half an hour later, with Logan sitting beside the window and Kara kneeling on the floor, they examined what she had been able to find. The most promising item was an old blanket, stained with something unidentifiable and probably repulsive. Though Kara didn't want to touch it again, she felt she had to say the obvious. "So we're all set. I'll just use this like a rope to climb down. It'll be just like a prison break in the movies."

Logan wasn't as squeamish. He picked up the blanket and tested it. "I wouldn't want to count on this holding your weight. Hard to tell how old it is. But if we could find something to make a hook on the end, we could snag that ladder down there and pull it back up again. See anything that might do the job?"

Kara found an old wire coat hanger buried under garbage in the corner of the other room. They unbent it, worked a hole in one end of the blanket, wrapped the wire through and around the hole, and finally made a hook at the other end of the hanger. They were both hungry and thirsty and time crawled. Logan wasn't much for chit-chat, but he did have a few pointed questions about the previous night.

"So just what were you doing in that alley anyway?" he asked when they paused to rest their hands, which ached from the effort to bore a hole in the blanket.

Kara sighed. "Nothing sinister, if that's what you're thinking. I was just curious." Would that satisfy him? Journalists were so nosy.

It didn't. "Do you make a habit of reading other people's mail?" he asked.

"No. But I'm a friend of Julie's."

"Must be a very good friend."

"You could say that. She's my girlfriend."

"Ah. Then since you have a very personal interest here, you won't mind telling me whether you plan to expose our friends across the alley as soon as you're out of here?"

Now why does he want to know that? she wondered. Does he want to get in on the action? No freaking way I'd share this story with him if I were going to do anything about it.

Aloud, she said, "Unfortunately, no, I don't plan to do that. Not that I wouldn't love to, but that would mess Julie up. So they'll live to raise hell another day."

That did seem to satisfy him. He didn't speak again until they were nearly finished, when he asked, "By the way, what were you looking at over there last night that was so exciting?"

Kara blushed. In broad daylight she was embarrassed to admit the truth. "Ummm, well, they were doing it," she said finally.

"You mean 'doing it' as in 'having sex'?"

"Yup." She bent over the blanket to hide her face. God, she sounded like some kind of creepy voyeur.

"Huh." Logan seemed amused. "That might have been worth seeing."

"Yeah, except they fell off the bed or something, because I only saw them for a minute."

"I see." Still looking amused, he twisted the wire a last time. "That ought to do it," he announced. "Ready to go fishing?"

Kara stood, stretched, and glanced out of the window at a dismaying sight. "Oh, give me a freaking break!"

"What?"

"They're awake." She checked at her watch. Was it really noon already? Damn.

"Looks like they're watching cartoons," Logan said. Sure enough, they were sprawled on the couch with boxes of cereal and a carton of milk, bathed in multicolored flickers of light.

"Guess we wait a while," he said philosophically.

Kara hated it, but she had to agree. There was no way she was going to lean out of that window and fish for the ladder with Steelheads watching just a few feet away.

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

Grace awoke early, far too early to meet Max. A long shower washed away the sleep but did nothing to ease her sore heart. She wasn't hungry. Finally she decided to stop by the hospital. She wanted to hear the latest.

As she walked down the corridor a woman sitting near her door rose and turned towards her. It was Isabelle's mother, Grace saw. She tried to smile but her eyes were red and she clearly hadn't slept much. "No news," she said, sparing Grace the shame of pretending to be ignorant. Grace brought her into the office and offered to get her some coffee, but she shook her head.

"I really need to get back upstairs in case ... well, you know, in case anything happens, but I just wanted to thank you for being so nice to us this last week. I know a lot of people think I'm a weirdo." She smiled. "Thank you for not making an issue of my religious beliefs. I don't understand how all this happened, I really don't. The doctor told us when we adopted her that she was special, genetically engineered, but that was what we'd always dreamed of, and he assured us that she was fine, just fine ... and now I just want to get her back." She began to cry. "I hope she's taking care of herself ... even when she was little she was such a fighter ..."

Grace took her upstairs to her family.

She had thought she couldn't feel any worse, but apparently she'd been wrong about that too. As she rode downstairs in the elevator she was completely ashamed of herself. Last night she had been a willing participant in hiding this woman's child because of her own needs and feelings. It was time to get Isabelle back to her parents. She left the hospital and went straight to Joshua's house. As soon as Max arrived she would leave with the girl.

With the memory of last night fresh in her mind, she entered the silent house cautiously, expecting to see Isabelle asleep on the couch, or maybe the floor, near the fire that provided the only heat. Joshua was there, snoring, but there was no sign of Isabelle or Alec either. She tiptoed through the other rooms with growing apprehension. Then, with a last look at Joshua curled peacefully in front of the fire, she let herself out.

There was no one else there. Isabelle had vanished. She had to find Max right away.

Early Saturday morning, Reagan Ronald strode purposefully towards his place of business. Fine day, he thought, nodding with approval at the delivery truck drivers and shop owners who were already hard at work. They were entrepreneurs, like himself. He was very proud of the fact that he had recently begun Saturday morning deliveries (at a premium price of course). He could already see a profit after just a few weeks. And it was doing him good too, knowing that a man could sometimes take charge of his own destiny.

Of course it was a bit of a management challenge to get his staff of deadbeats to show up after a Friday night of debauchery at Crush or Smash or whatever the place was called, but he preferred to think of that as an opportunity. After they'd drunk and smoked every last dime in their pockets, they were usually willing to come in and earn a few tips to finance their Saturday night fun. Even Max. She wasn't any more reliable than she'd ever been, but she was putting in the extra hours these days. Paying off that heart transplant, he supposed.

Now who was that hanging around in front of the Jam Pony gate? he wondered as he approached. Impatient customer, or hooker too messed up to make her way back to whatever flea-ridden dump she called home? But it wasn't. It was Max.

"Well, well. Speak of the devil and she will appear," he said, immediately suspicious. Max was generally incapable of arriving on time, let alone early.

"Morning to you too, Normal," she said in her usual contemptuous tone.

"What's wrong? Lose your apartment keys? Fight with your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Good job, Max. Thanks for getting to work on time," she continued in the same nasty voice, and then, as he unlocked the gate, "Look, just give me a package and I'll hit the road, all right?"

He deliberately chose a delivery that would take her halfway across town and back, expecting her to complain. The kids usually hated the long ones -- too far for one lousy tip -- but to his surprise she accepted the envelope and immediately hopped on her bike.

"Later," she said shortly, leaving him alone with his coffee. Which was a good thing.

Max pedaled away relieved. She needed to be alone right now. She'd already turned off her beeper and phone, even though she hadn't heard from Logan last night. Probably out half the night on his secret mission, whatever it was, and sleeping in this morning. She'd buzz him when she got back to Jam Pony. For now, she needed a good long ride and some solitude to clear her head, because last night she'd had the Dream, and the Dream was a bitch.

Nobody else knew about the Dream, not even Cindy. Cindy would call it a sex dream. "Just what goes through the mind of your average male once every six seconds," Max could hear her saying. But it wasn't that kind of sex dream. It was a seduction dream, and Logan was her seducer.

The Dream had started when she was in prison at Manticore. She'd loved it then. It gave her hope, reminded her what she was fighting for. These days it made her flat-out crazy for a few hours and real cranky for days after that. Nothing like your own unconscious jerking your chain a little, she thought bitterly as the cold morning air blew in her face.

No, it wasn't a sex dream. Sex was the word for what happened when she was in heat, for lust that cared only about satisfaction. This was different. She'd find herself someplace with Logan, sometimes in his apartment but it could be anywhere, really, once up on the Needle and once even at Jam Pony. She wouldn't be thinking that way at all, and then Logan would be there, giving her that look, the intense one that she couldn't look away from. And while she was staring into those eyes, he would touch her. Gently at first. Fingertips brushing her hand, her hair, her cheek. Her skin would tingle everywhere it met his. Slowly, tenderly, he would continue to touch her, drawing her closer, and finally, as his mouth met hers, her soul as well as her body would cry out with joy and anticipation. And then ... she'd wake up, and after a few breathless seconds, she'd remember the virus and her heart would come crashing down, leaving her nothing but a moody bitch for however long it took to get her mind on something else.

That was why she was riding hard across town at this hour on a Saturday morning. Sublimating like there's no tomorrow, she told herself. Especially since she had business to take care of after work. After a night on Joshua's hard, dirty floor, wrapped in an old blanket with only the fire for warmth -- and no working toilet, either -- Isabelle should be feeling pretty sorry for herself. If Grace knew what she was talking about, a little gentle reasoning from Alec should have the girl back where she belonged before dark. Grace, too. And then, if she wasn't feeling too spun from the whole freaking day, maybe she could at least get that hot bath and that phone call she'd had to miss last night.

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

It wasn't far from Joshua's to the hospital, so Grace went back to her office and tried to beep Max. Repeatedly, and with no luck. Maybe she wasn't allowed to take phone calls at work? No, that was stupid. How much good would a bike messenger be without a beeper? But after an hour passed and she could only reach Max's voicemail, she knew she had to try something else. Very reluctantly, she dialed Logan's number, which she had finally found at home. To her disappointment and relief, his phone was out of service. Maybe Max and Logan were together. After what Alec had said last night, Grace wouldn't be surprised if Max had an armed guard watching Logan's apartment.

But now what was she supposed to do? With every second that went by, Isabelle's trail got colder. She needed to act, and now. Frustrated, she picked up the scrap of paper with Max's number on it, and then she saw it. Max had torn off a corner of a delivery ticket, and there was a printed address on the other side. Jam Pony Messenger Service, here I come, she decided, and left the hospital before she could change her mind.

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

When Max rode up to Jam Pony the first thing she saw was Grace sitting on the curb like a kid with no friends. Well, his can't be anything good, she thought. Quickly stopping the bike she said, "What?"

Grace stood. Max saw right away that she was in a very bad mood. "She's gone again," Grace said. "I went by the house, and she's gone. And so is Alec."

Max hopped off her bike, resisting the temptation to give it a frustrated kick. This was the last thing she needed today, in her state of mind. "Damn him," she groaned. No telling what kind of trouble that girl would attract, on the loose in Seattle. As if she, Max, didn't have plenty of that already.

"I hope you're not talking about me," a voice behind her said. Alec. How interesting.

Both Grace and Max turned around. When he saw their faces he stopped. "Hey, before you jump all over me --"

"As if either one of us would ever consider such a thing," Max said under her breath.

Alec looked insulted. "Look, I didn't take her, and I don't know where she is. She was sleeping, I went out to pick up some breakfast, came back and she was gone."

"You went OUT?" Max said incredulously.

"I was hungry. You don't bring him much to eat," he told Max reproachfully. "Go yell at him if you're looking for someone to take it out on. He slept right through it. Not much watchdog in his cocktail, huh?"

Max closed her eyes and gritted her teeth for a moment. She wanted to beat the crap out of him, but what would that solve? Instead she said, "We've got to split up and find her. We'll meet at Joshua's and figure out where --"

"Whoa there." Alec held up a hand. "Max, what do you say we just let this go? It's going to take all afternoon and I've got plans for tonight. Kids run away all the time. She'll be fine. More than fine. She's one of us."

"Are you forgetting what she's seen?" Max asked. "Joshua, our barcodes --"

"Uh, Max, that's your barcode," Alec reminded her. "I didn't show her anything."

"Explain it to me. What's ... your ... problem?" Max said through her teeth.

Grace found she was gritting her own teeth. Max at least seemed to care about finding Isabelle, but Alec was impossible. And in her state of mind, Grace wasn't in the mood for impossible.

"My problem?" Alec snapped back. In his eyes Grace saw another flash of that seemingly real anger he had shown the night before. She suddenly felt very confused. "It's not my problem, Max, it's your problem. You're all over the place with this. Some days you can't free the transgenics fast enough, but today you want to drag the girl back to her parents. You know what? I think you're ignoring her because you wanna keep an eye on your man, especially with her around." This with a jerk of the thumb in Grace's direction.

"My man --" Max began to protest, but he cut her off.

"Come on, Max, admit it. You're all over the place with good old Logan too. One minute you're mooning over him and the next minute you're out half the night with Pizza Boy. You don't love him. I just can't figure out whether you're using him to get fake IDs for your friends or whether you feel sorry for him. You know, the crippled-guy thing. You girls seem to go crazy for that."

For a moment both Grace and Max were speechless. Max opened her mouth to answer but suddenly Grace was angry. Really angry. Logan could be defended later. She was not going to stand on this sidewalk all afternoon while these two bickered and Isabelle disappeared further into the Seattle underworld.

"Listen to me," she said in a voice so cold that both Max and Alec turned to face her in surprise. "You WILL spend this afternoon helping to find her, or I will personally turn you in. That girl's mother is heartbroken -- and I am not going to lose my job over this. We will find her, and she will go back where she belongs right away. Am I being clear?"

"Your job? You're worried about your job?" Alec said condescendingly.

"Yes, I am," Grace said. She couldn't care less any more what either one of them thought. "A hospital doesn't look too kindly on its employees kidnapping patients. And you know what else? YOU can't get fired from being a transgenic. I'm not that lucky."

Max and Alec exchanged glances. "Calm down, Grace, you're losing it," Max began.

"It's high time someone lost it with you, missy," said a voice behind them, and Grace turned to see a man in thick black glasses and headset regarding them sternly. "You've been gone for hours. And you started off the day so well. Who's this?" he demanded, fixing Grace with a stare that was meant to be intimidating. Grace was past intimidation now, but before she could do more than stare back, Alec said,

"It's cool, Normal, this is Grace. She's a member of the clergy."

"Clergy?" Suddenly he dropped the belligerence. "What's a -- Is this the counselor?"

"Counselor?" Max said impatiently.

"Yes, missy, the counselor! The one your roommate claims is treating you? For your anger management issues?"

"Yeah," Max said. "Yeah, that's it. This is my counselor." She plastered a fake sweet smile on her face. "Don't I look serene?"

"Well." He looked at Grace. "You've undertaken a worthy project, and believe me, you have my best wishes for your success in this endeavor. You'll need it. But this is a workplace --"

Max looked up in the sky. "Oh look, sun's directly overhead. It's noon, and I'm officially off the clock. Come on, Grace," she said. Grace followed her, glad to get away from -- whatever his name was. And she had thought Norris was a pain.

Alec wanted to leave too, but Normal put a hand on his arm to stop him. Then, nodding in Grace's direction, he said under his breath, "Are you --"

"Am I what?" Alec replied impatiently. Then comprehension dawned. "Oh. Oh no. No, not my type."

"Could you -- do you think you could get me her, you know --"

"Her number? No problem, man." Alec just wanted to get rid of Normal. Whatever it took.

"Well thanks. Thanks very much," Normal said happily as Alec hurried after Grace and Max, who were by this time far down the street.

"Hey," he called, and they turned around together, glaring at him with nearly identical expressions. He should have known that sooner or later they'd gang up on him, he thought. "I'm coming," was all he dared say.

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

In the abandoned apartment the afternoon crawled by. Both Logan and Kara were very hungry and thirsty, and Logan's upper back ached terribly from the awkward way he was perched on the chair. The inoperative exoskeleton froze his legs straight out in front of him. He wanted desperately to take it off to improve his balance but he could just imagine the questions Kara would ask. So he did what he could, stretching his arms and shoulders, though it wasn't enough.

As the afternoon light began to fade there was a flurry of activity in the Steelhead apartment, and then to Kara and Logan's joy, they left. In something of a hurry, too, after one of them got a cell phone call that seemed to alarm or excite him. Any other time Logan would have been very curious about that call, but now it meant only one thing: it was time to grab that ladder.

It took a while, and there was one terrible moment when Kara hooked the ladder and then dropped it again, the clatter ringing up and down the alley while Logan and Kara pulled back into the shadows, barely daring to breathe. But after one furious shout of "Shut the fuck up, whoever did that," from somewhere down the block, no one seemed to care. Kara waited a while before trying again, and this time succeeded. In just a minute or two she had raised the ladder, climbed cautiously out over the windowsill, and made it to the ground. She picked up her telephone, shook her head at Logan to indicate that it wasn't working, and then with a quick wave disappeared up the metal steps and through the passageway that led to the street.

Logan watched her go with a mixture of relief and apprehension. After much inner debate, he had agreed to let her send someone from the station to pry the door open and spring him from this place. He would rather have given her Max's number, but there were a million reasons that was a bad idea. First, he had gotten himself into this situation and would get himself out. Second, he didn't want to give a reporter, especially one as nosy as Kara Bennett, Max's phone number. And third, for all he knew, Max still had her hands full with Isabelle. Maybe she didn't even know he was gone.

But there was one reason above all others that he hadn't asked for Max. He had to assume that the only way to get him out of here was to carry him out. And that was exactly why he didn't want Max around. Not because he cared about having to accept that kind of help from her -- he was past that now, or at least he thought he was -- but because in their current situation, she couldn't do that for him. And it seemed cruel to shove the virus in her face any more than absolutely necessary.

I know, I know, he told himself, shifting his shoulders again to ease the ache. I can't protect her from all the pain in her life, and even if I could that wouldn't be the answer. She has to find the answer herself. But just this once, I'm going to cut her a break. Just a little one, but a break. God knows she deserves it.

Kara practically ran down the alley and out to her car, she was so relieved to be out of that cat-piss-smelling hellhole of a building.

Relief carried her through the tedious process of extricating her car from the too-tight parking space and fighting the Saturday evening traffic back to the station. She worked out a cover on the way: that she'd been out investigating a tip but couldn't say more until the story developed. She told Julie the same thing over the phone, between apologies. She'd figure out what else to say later, she decided.

Finally everyone settled down enough for her to grab a soda from the vending machine and head for the room where the camera guys hung out between assignments. It should be easy enough to get somebody to follow her over to that building and break the door down. The way she figured it, how Cale got home wasn't her problem. He could borrow her phone and call a friend. She had to get home to Julie and pick up the pieces of her weekend.

Just as she pushed open the door of the crew room, she heard someone shouting her name. "Kara! Don't you move! I've got a story and no one to cover -- you up for it?" It was the senior evening news producer, a woman Kara had been trying to impress for some time now, hoping to get subbed in as anchorwoman one of these days.

Kara hesitated. She wasn't really in the mood, but it was her policy never to pass up a chance to do someone that powerful a favor. "Sure!" she yelled back, smiling, and the producer happily caught up and went into the crew room with her. I'll stop by and help him on the way back, Kara promised herself as the producer quickly outlined the story.

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

Full darkness fell, and the empty space around Logan seemed to close in until the room was only the size of the faint patch of light from the window. What is taking that woman so long? he wondered irritably. When is she going to get here?

Bored, apprehensive, he picked up his phone again and played with it. Wonder if the battery's still any good, he thought, pressing the "call" button automatically, for what? The hundredth time in the last twenty hours?

And this time he got a dial tone.

He nearly dropped the phone, he was so excited. Slow down there, he warned himself. It could go out again any second. Stay cool. Now -- you probably have practically no juice left in the thing. Either make a call or shut it off. But he didn't want to shut it off -- what if Max called, or what if he couldn't get it back on again? With shaking fingers, despite his earlier decision, he called Max.

No answer. Voicemail. He didn't bother leaving a message.

Damn, he thought, now what? Do I try someone else or wait it out? There was Matt Sung, but ... no, that was way too much explaining to do, especially since he was trying to keep Matt from asking questions that might lead back to Max. No, he should just wait a bit and --

Across the alley, the lights came on suddenly. The Steelheads were home.

He expected them to flop down on the couch and turn on the TV, but something seemed to be happening out of his line of sight. It looked like they were speaking to someone he couldn't see. Then they burst into silent laughter and someone new, a young girl with long blond hair, came shyly into the room.

Isabelle. The girl Alec had brought to his apartment. What on earth was she doing with Steelheads? All sorts of crazy scenarios ran through Logan's head. What had happened to Max and Alec and Grace? Had the girl run away? Why were the Steelheads interested in her? Did they have some idea just exactly what she was?

This was not good. Not good at all. His own discomfort forgotten, Logan watched the windows across the alley, trying over and over again to call Max.

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

After some discussion, Max and Grace went one way, Alec in the opposite direction. "Call if anything happens," Max told him. But there was no sign of Isabelle anywhere. And Max's phone was silent.

"Guess he's not having any luck, either, huh?" Grace said after a while.

"No," said Max absently, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She gave it a quick glance, started to put it away, looked more closely. "Dammit! I never turned it back on this morning!" Grace watched her check for messages, then shove the phone back into her pocket in disappointment. "Nothing," she said, heaving a huge sigh. "I'm starving. Let's eat something."

At a nearby store Grace watched in fascination as Max bought and consumed two apples, a banana, a large bag of chips, and a quart of milk, while she sipped halfheartedly at some juice. She was far too anxious to eat, but Max's appetite seemed unaffected. Does she always eat that much? Grace thought. She's so tiny. Guess enhanced people come with enhanced metabolisms.

Max seemed a bit more cheerful as she finished off the last of the milk, and Grace decided to venture a question. Maybe this would be neutral territory. "Do you have any idea what's bothering Alec?" she began.

"He's just yanking my chain," Max said. "Like I said the other day, who cares?"

"Well, you know, sometimes he sounds really angry."

Max fixed her with a hard stare, then shrugged. "He grew up at Manticore. If I had to choose between that and slavery in some third-world country, I'd take the slavery."

"Oh." Grace felt embarrassed. "Well, I guess I should, um, apologize for that thing I said about getting fired, earlier."

Max didn't react to that. She only said, "Couldn't you just get another job? Like at a church?"

"Maybe. Probably not. I don't know." Grace didn't know why she was telling Max this, but Max had asked. "Alec was wrong. I'm not actually a member of the clergy. I've just had some seminary training, and the hospital took me because I'm cheaper than the real thing."

"Oh." Max began to pick up her trash.

Grace took a deep breath. "Anyway, Alec had no right to say those things to you about Logan. He's only doing it because I'm there."

Max threw an apple core into her bag. She didn't look up.

Grace paused, holding her breath. She had something to say, something she had wanted to tell Max for a long time. She had just never imagined doing it in the middle of a busy street on a Saturday evening. "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened last summer."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Max said stiffly, still looking at her bag.

"I know," Grace said. "I'm not apologizing, exactly. I'm just saying I'm sorry it hurt you. And is hurting you now."

Max said nothing.

Hoping she was doing the right thing, Grace continued, "Last summer ... I mean, I've seen a lot of people suffer, but I never met anyone like him. I never saw anyone so strong. I just wanted to help him. I'm sorry," she repeated.

Max had set the milk carton on the curb. Now without looking up she smashed it flat with her foot, picked it up, and tossed it into an overflowing garbage can nearby. "Maybe it's just one more thing to chalk up to Manticore," she said finally, staring hard at the garbage.

"Yeah," said Grace. After a moment she began, "Should we --"

Max folded her arms, kicked at a bit of garbage in the gutter. "Wait. I want to ask you something. Even if you're not an official whatever. 'Cause Father Destry hasn't been around and this is really bugging me."

"Sure," said Grace, trying not to sound as apprehensive as she felt. Who was Father Destry? Max and a priest? Why?

Max said, "How does it work when you make a deal with God?"

That, Grace thought, came right out of left field. Cautiously she answered, "What kind of a deal with God?"

"Logan was really, really sick. I promised God I'd do anything if he would save him. And he did." Now Max looked right at her, her eyes pleading even if her face was stern. "So what do you think? Maybe he'll ask me to save a life?"

"Kind of a quid pro quo?"

"Yeah," said Max.

"God does something big, you do something big .. you're even?"

"Yeah!" Max agreed, as if Grace had just said something very intelligent.

Grace hesitated. She had absolutely no idea what to say. At times like this, she had discovered, all you could do was open your mouth and let words out. It was either the very worst or the very best thing you could do. Hoping for the latter, she said slowly, "Logan told me you saved his life more than once. And other people's. So -- saving lives is kind of business as usual for you, isn't it?"

"Guess so."

"So, maybe it will be something harder. Something you have to work at a little."

"Like what?"

And then she said it, the thing she totally didn't mean to say. The thing that slipped out of her mouth because deep down she was still too busy feeling sorry for herself to feel sorry for Max. "Well, you could try appreciating what you have."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice hostile, but something about the look on Max's face brought tears to Grace's eyes. Tears for herself? Tears for Max? She didn't know.

She said, "He loves you. Logan loves you. I knew from the first moment that he loved you with all his heart." She heard the quiver in her voice.

There was a silence. Grace didn't dare look at Max until her feelings were a little more under control. When she did look, she saw that Max was nearly as upset as she was.

"Did you know I almost killed him?" Max asked in a low voice.

"What?"

"Manticore poisoned me with a virus targeted to his DNA. If I touch him, he dies. I almost killed him the night I came back."

"Was that--"

"When I did the deal? No. There was an antigen. One dose, and I had to use it. So there is no second chance. I screw up, it's all over. That's why I was going to keep going. Stay with Jace."

Grace said softly, "Why?" Good God, she thought, appalled. How had Manticore managed to do so much damage to hearts and minds, all in the name of superior strength?

"Eyes Only. They hate him."

"But ... he knew about the virus when he went after you. He didn't let it stop him."

Max turned her face away. "I should have stayed there. I kick myself every day that I didn't go through with it and let him go."

"Max. You really should stop talking like that." Grace hated the tone of Max's voice. "Keep it up and one of these days someone's going to take you up on it."

"Is that a threat?"

"No." Grace thought, Even if I thought I had a chance, I couldn't do that to her. It's just not fair. "No, it's not. But I don't have to tell you ... he's wonderful --"

"But I'm not!" Max said, viciously crunching the paper bag.

"Stop it. That virus is Manticore. It isn't you."

Max's head came straight up. Her eyes were wide. "What did you say?"

"I said, it's Manticore, it isn't --"

That was when the phone in Max's pocket began to ring. Grace saw the alarm spread across Max's face as she listened. "Where are you?" Max asked, and, then, after a long pause, "518 North Street, right, got it." She snapped the phone shut. "Come on, we've got to run. Now!" she snapped at Grace.

They ran.

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

Logan leaned back against the wall next to the window, momentarily weak with relief. For the past fifteen minutes he had been watching the doings across the alley, increasingly uneasy as the Steelheads' behavior toward Isabelle gradually changed from boisterous to something far more menacing.

At first they had acted like big, harmless kids, laughing, wrestling, smacking each other around a bit, while Isabelle perched on the edge of the couch smiling. Before long the game had moved a bit closer to her, until there were Steelheads on either side of her, and then suddenly the one to her right pinned her arms behind her back while the one on her left roughly yanked her hair aside. Logan went cold. These guys were smart, very smart, and they certainly knew what a barcode meant.

It was only a matter of time until they discovered her other secret.

He had to act, and soon. But the last thing he wanted to do was call the cops, even Matt. He was sure White was monitoring all police communications, either electronically or through contacts. If word of a barcode -- or worse -- reached him, Isabelle would be in even more danger than she was now.

Another look out of the window had confirmed his worst fears. Isabelle was now standing in the center of the room, Steelheads holding her arms, the metal-haired woman inspecting her up and down as if she were about to begin a strip search. Isabelle was crying; he couldn't see her face, but he saw her shoulders shaking. "Come on, be there, Max," he whispered as he hit the redial button one last time.

It rang. And she answered.

Max wanted to know where he was, but he cut her off. "Get to 518 North Street as fast as you can. Ground floor apartment, rear. Steelheads have Isabelle. You've got to get her out of there. Now!" Max responded to the command implicit in his words and tone. Suddenly he was listening to a dial tone.

Hang in there, Isabelle, you're stronger than you know, he thought, watching from his window. Max is coming. Just hold out till then.

Max immediately called Alec, and they met him on a street corner eight blocks away. When Grace saw that Joshua was with him, lurking in a shadowy doorway nearby, she thought Alec and Max were going to fight again. But she had forgotten since the summer how focused Max could be in an emergency. And now Alec's military training was evident as well.

"I only brought him out at dark. Thought he could follow her trail," he told Max with none of the confrontational tone he generally used.

Max gave a quick nod. "I'll take him with me," she said. "You two go. Now." To Grace she said, "Alec's been there before. He's more than a match for them. And she's gonna need you." She handed Grace her bicycle, Alec climbed on his, and before Grace and Alec had pedaled away, she and Joshua had disappeared into the darkness.

Grace pedaled as fast as she could, but she wasn't used to riding, and could already tell she was going to slow Alec down, maybe disastrously. "Shouldn't you go ahead?" she shouted ahead to him.

"Yes, but not yet!" he shouted over his shoulder, then dropped back until he was even with her. "After we get through the sector checkpoint, I'm going to take off. All you have to do is ride straight on Water Street until it intersects North, then hang a left. Got it?"

"Yes," was all she had breath to say.

"Okay." They pedaled furiously for a while but Saturday night traffic and crowds began to slow them. The line at the checkpoint was long and they walked their bikes until they could get close enough to flash their IDs. As they waited Alec was restless. Finally he said,

"So where is old Logan, anyway?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell Max."

Alec snorted. "Probably sitting up in that nice penthouse of his like a prince in an ivory tower, waiting for Max to come running over 'cause he called. She acts more like a puppy than Dog Boy does. Betcha she stops there on the way over. She's always stopping there."

"Is that what you have against him? You don't like the way Max acts with him?"

"I just don't get what Max sees in him. You, I understand. Good-looking rich guy, you're into all that caretaking stuff ..."

"You think I was taking care of him?" In spite of the emergency and her aching legs, Grace was getting annoyed again. She'd assumed he would settle down without Max around, but he was going strong. She wished she could shut him up.

"Well, then, what were you doing?" He kept glancing up at the checkpoint as they talked.

Again Grace opened her mouth and completely surprised herself. "We were sleeping together. Hmmm, now -- what else would you call that in Common Verbal Usage? Doing it? Yeah, that sounds right."

For once Alec was speechless. He looked at Grace, up at the checkpoint, and back at Grace again. "Huh," he said finally.

"You really didn't know? You were spying on us. You didn't notice?"

"Hey, I wasn't looking in the windows."

Grace shrugged. She knew she'd regret this later, but right now it was kind of fun. "There you go. Now you know what I see in him, at least."

He still seemed stunned. "He was ... and she wouldn't ... Damn." The crowd in front of them moved forward suddenly and Alec abruptly shook off his amazement. In seconds he was all soldier, focused, poised to ride. "Get your ID out," he instructed quietly.

Alec shouted that he was a messenger, Grace flashed her ID quickly behind his, and they rode through the checkpoint easily. As promised Alec pulled away the moment they cleared the crowd, while Grace followed slowly, wondering what awaited them on North Street.

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

Max had a million questions and desperately wanted to call Logan back, but first she had to figure out how to get herself and Joshua through the sector and past the checkpoint to where the deserted streets where Joshua could move safely. Finally she decided on that good old standby, hitching a ride. They waited until a truck pulled into the checkpoint line, quickly climbed into the back, and hid behind some crates until the inspectors closed the doors again and the truck stopped at a light well into the next sector. Joshua was surprisingly quick and agile for someone who hadn't been trained in evasive maneuvers, Max thought. But that was stupid. He'd trained himself, all those years in the basement.

As soon as they were out on the street again she called Logan back.

"Where are you?" she demanded as she ran. "How did you find Isabelle?"

"Long story," his voice came over the phone. "I'll have a lot more fun telling it to you when there's more time. How close are you?"

Max glanced at the street sign. "Eight blocks. How long have I got?"

Logan sounded grim. "Not long. Make it snappy, Max. Call me back when you get there." The phone clicked off.

Alec was just pulling up on his bike when Max and Joshua sprinted up to the building. "In here!" Max called over her shoulder as she ran up the stairs of 518, followed by Alec. Joshua's eyes narrowed. "I smell her," he told Max. Then he slipped into the shadows of the alley next to the building to wait.

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

Five minutes later Grace rode up on Max's bike, winded and a bit scared. Something about the empty streets and burned-out buildings frightened her. Hard to tell what hid behind those brick walls, watching. And she was clearly out of place here.

She climbed off the bike and began to walk cautiously along the sidewalk, her skin prickling. She was so tempted to look over her shoulder. When she passed a dark alleyway the creepiness was too much, and she did look. While her head was turned she heard a door bang, footsteps, and suddenly something slammed into her, very hard. She skidded across the sidewalk and hit the side of the building next to the alley, which knocked the wind out of her for a moment. She wanted very badly to get up and run but she was stunned and her arm hurt. A lot.

As she lay there trying to breathe a man scrambled up from the sidewalk, disentangling himself from Max's bicycle. That's what hit me, Grace thought, and then a dark blur flew out of the alley beside her and tackled the man. There was a scuffle on the ground, and then out of the building ran two more men and a woman. Grace got a quick glimpse of more silver studs and wires than she had ever seen on a human being, and then Max and Alec came out of the building, Alec with his arm around a sobbing Isabelle.

Max was on the sidewalk in a flash, reaching into the scuffle and separating the combatants. One of them was dressed like the people who had run out of the building. Max gave him a rough shove and said, "Beat it!" He didn't have to be asked twice. He gave Max one wild look and ran down the street and around the corner. At that point Grace realized the second person was Joshua. "What were you doing?" Max was asking him, urgently but kindly.

Joshua turned and pointed to the sidewalk where Grace sprawled. "He hit Grace."

"Oh, crap," Max said, turning around.

"I'm all right," Grace said. As far as she could tell, she was, except for her arm, which felt raw and bruised but otherwise all right. She could move it, at least. She climbed to her feet as Max pointed to the alley.

"In here," she commanded. The little group gathered around Isabelle. Max rubbed her arm gently and asked, "Are you all right?"

"I want to go home," Isabelle sobbed. "Take me back to my parents."

There was very little light in the alley, but Grace could see Max and Alec exchange glances. Max said, "Are you sure, Isabelle? You know what will happen when you go back there."

"They were going to hook me up to a machine," Isabelle sobbed. "They wanted to do something to my blood."

"They saw your barcode?"

"They saw everything. They took my shirt off. If that's what it means I don't want the barcode or any of the rest of it. I just want my mom." She broke down again, crying into Alec's shoulder. For a long time, Max and Alec looked at each other. Finally, Alec touched the back of Isabelle's hair and said gently, "It's all right. We'll take you back."

For just a moment Max's face softened, but before she could speak, her phone rang. "Hey," Grace heard her say. "We got her." There was more, but Grace leaned back against the building, not listening. Her knees were beginning to shake and she felt lightheaded. Breathe, she told herself, trying to relax.

Then Max swore into the phone. "There's a news van pulling up!"

On the other end of the call, Logan groaned. Now his ride was showing up, at the worst possible time. How could they get rid of ... "Max! Is anyone getting out of the van?"

"Yes. Blonde woman, looks like a reporter, and a camera guy."

"Is Grace there with you?"

"Yes, but --"

"Quick. Send Grace and Isabelle out into the street to meet the reporter. She was at the news conference the other night. She'll recognize Grace."

Max got it immediately. "She'll be all over the runaway story --"

"-- while the rest of you slip out the back. Yeah, you've got it."

Max waved at Isabelle. "Grace, take her. That's a reporter. She'll --" She stopped. Blood, a lot of it, was running down Grace's arm. "Wait, Logan, Grace is hurt."

"Bad?"

But now Grace understood what Logan and Max were talking about. She yanked her arm out of Max's hand. "I'm okay," she said, reaching out for Isabelle.

"You're bleeding --"

"It's a skinned knee."

For just a second Max looked confused. Then she nodded. "Go! And see a doctor, okay?"

"I work at a hospital, remember?" Grace said, and pulled Isabelle out into the light.

Down the street the cameraman said, "Who the hell is that?"

Kara squinted. Two women? A woman and a girl? As they approached she suddenly recognized the shorter, brown-haired woman. She'd been at the Metro Medical conference the other night ... oh my God! The runaway! She had the runaway! Kara couldn't believe her luck. She was walking right up to the biggest story of the week! "Turn on that camera!" she shouted at the cameraman, grabbing his phone to call the station. I'll send someone to get you after this, she silently promised Logan Cale, and they went forward to greet the runaway girl, filming all the while.

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

Alec, Max, and Joshua waited in the alley until the news van pulled away with Grace and Isabelle inside. Then Max dared to breathe into the phone, "That's it. They're out of here."

"Good." Logan bent forward, stretching his back. His head ached with hunger. "Where are you?"

"In an alley next to the Steelheads' place. Where are you?"

"About two hundred feet behind you."

"What?"

Following Logan's directions, Max, Alec, and Joshua made their way down the alley, down the metal stairs, and back to the window. Joshua sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Cat," he growled, pointing at the window.

Logan's head appeared, his glasses glinting in the dim light. He held a finger to his lips, then waved a hand, indicating the buildings up and down the alley.

Max nodded. Silently she climbed the ladder. "How long have you been here? Can you climb down?"

"About twenty-four hours, and no. The exo is shorted out."

"Where's the car?"

"On the street back there."

Max looked around doubtfully. "I can't get you down the ladder --"

"I know."

When Max climbed back down Joshua had disappeared, but Alec was waiting at the bottom. "How long has he been up there?" he whispered to Max.

"Only about a day," Max said coldly, walking away. Alec grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"He can't climb down. I'm going to get Joshua to help."
"I'll do it." Alec stepped on the first rung of the ladder. Max stopped him.

"Wouldn't want you to go all that trouble for the crippled guy," she whispered in his ear.

"I'm doing it for Joshua. He doesn't like the cat smell," Alec said defensively, and disappeared into the apartment.

What's got into him? Max wondered. Oh, whatever. Had anyone in her life ever annoyed her more? I'll just go keep a lookout at the street, she thought, and made her way easily back down the dark alley, to where she couldn't see Alec carry Logan down the ladder.

The ride back across town was long, but Logan insisted on driving, lightheaded and exhausted as he was. He and Max were blessedly alone, Alec and Joshua having decided to ride the bicycles back. Logan was mildly disappointed that he hadn't had a good look at Joshua before they pedaled away. It had been hard to see much at all from his upside-down position over Alec's shoulder and they hadn't wanted to linger, knowing the Steelheads would return sooner or later. One of these days I'll get a good look at the guy, he thought hazily, trying to concentrate on the road ahead.

And besides, he was perfectly happy to be alone with Max.

Max was quiet, as she was so often these days. He'd expected a million questions, but once in the car she'd said, "Tell me all about it after we get out of here?" Now she seemed lost in thought, and he left her alone.

Besides, he was a bit preoccupied himself. He needed to figure out how to get Max to come home with him instead of splitting, like she did way too often these days.

When they pulled into his parking space and he shut off the car, she jumped right out. "Let me bring the chair down, okay?" she called over her shoulder.

"Sure. Leave me your phone?"

"Sure." Max tossed the phone into the car and headed for the elevator. He made a quick call, then settled back in the driver's seat.

The wait seemed interminable. He was half-asleep when she finally emerged from the elevator with his chair. As soon as he was out of the car she said,

"I'm dying for a hot bath, so I'm gonna blaze. Get something to eat and some rest, okay? I'll call you later." She turned towards the street where her bike was parked.

"Hey." How badly did he want to reach out to her? So badly that he had to fold his arms to keep his hand still. "You can't do that to me," he said lightly.

"Do what?" she asked, turning back. The conflict in her face -- the desire to stay and the desire to run -- was heartbreaking. He said gently,

"I've just had a huge adventure. I've got at great story to tell and you're going to leave me here with no audience? After all the times I've listened to your stories?"

"I'll call you."

"Not the same."

"I want a bath."

"More than you want to know about my night with a Channel 3 reporter?"

That got her. He had to hide a grin at the jealous curiosity in her eyes. "Well ..."

"Come on. You can take a bath any time. How often do you get to hear about my cat-burgling?"

She hesitated a few seconds longer, and then gave in, with a sudden smile so brilliant and beautiful it made him tremble. You did it, you talked her into staying, he told himself as they made their way to the elevator. Though his efforts to find "the machine" had been a total disaster, at least so far, here was hope, unexpected and beautiful. Max had found the courage to come home with him.

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

Later, they sat in the living room, with the remains of a picnic dinner spread out on the coffee table, both still dirty and exhausted. The stories had been told, the questions asked. There had been some serious moments, some laughter and teasing. Now they were mostly talked out.

"Can we do something?" Max asked suddenly in the silence.

"What?"

"Watch the news? I want to see if there's anything, you know, about tonight."

In answer he reached for the remote control and turned on the set.

Sure enough, there was a live news conference at Metro Medical. Max recognized the hospital guy who had been in Grace's office the night before. He was answering a question. As he finished, the camera cut to the press crowded into a small room. A blonde reporter called out, "Can you tell us anything more about how the girl was found?"

"Oh, is that her?" Max asked, not very nicely.

"That's her. My friend Kara." Logan laughed at the expression on Max's face. It felt great to know that Kara Bennett had better stay out of Max Guevara's way.

The camera cut back to the podium, where a well-dressed man and a woman -- Isabelle's parents, she guessed -- stood beside Hospital Guy. And next to them was Grace, still in her jeans and T-shirt. Hospital Guy motioned Grace forward. Grace cleared her throat and said, "I received a tip from a source, a youth counselor, who needs to remain anonymous. Confidentiality issues." Max saw a big patch of white gauze and tape on the arm that had been bleeding in the alley.

Isabelle's mother stepped forward and added, "We're not interested in asking a lot of questions. We're just glad our daughter's back, and we're grateful for all Ms. Guerin's help." She smiled at Grace as Hospital Guy leaned towards the microphones and said authoritatively, "That's it. Thanks very much. Good night." Accompanied by the parents and Grace, he turned away from the podium.

Immediately the camera cut back to the blonde reporter, who announced breathlessly, "As we've been reporting this evening, the runaway patient from Metro Medical, thirteen-year-old Isabelle Tyler, has been found and is safe. A Channel 3 news team just happened to be on the scene when Grace Guerin, a staffer at Metro Medical ..."

"It worked," Max said in a wondering voice, and Logan quickly turned down the volume.

"Seems that way," he agreed. "No exposure to you or anyone else. Think she'll tell anyone?"

"No," Max said. "That little taste of transgenic life was definitely more than enough for her. She'll want to get as far away from it as she can."

"You were right. She didn't have a clue how to take care of herself out there."

"Of course not," Max sighed. "She's not a soldier, she's just a rich kid -- no offense --"

"None taken," Logan said with a straight face.

"And she's thirteen. She's naive. She just went home with those Steelheads when they found her on the street! She was careless with her barcode! White would have found her in no time." Max was beginning to look upset again.

"It's over. She's home," Logan soothed her.

"Which is what Isabelle wants. And she'll be better off this way. She really will." Max sighed. On screen, the camera showed the group leaving the conference room. A crowd of hospital personnel stood outside the room, and Max saw someone familiar step out of the crowd and walk next to Grace. "Is that Sam?" she asked.

"Yes. While you came up here for the chair, I gave him a call and asked him to take a look at her arm. That alley was disgusting."

Max smiled. "Good idea," she said. He smiled back.

The doorbell rang.

Logan was clearly exhausted, so for security's sake Max answered it, not quite sure what to expect. To her surprise it was Alec, cleaned up, but sporting a bruise on his jaw. "Looks like one of those Steelheads landed one on you. Come on in," she invited.

Alec rubbed his jaw. "No thanks. I've got plans for tonight. Just stopped to drop this off." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small envelope.

"What's this?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. Looks to me like some kind of microchip. It was lying on a table in the Steelheads' place, and somehow it ended up in my pocket during the fight."

"Isn't that strange," Max agreed, hiding a smile.

"Yeah," said Alec cheerfully. "Anyway, it's not the kind of thing I can, uh, dispose of through any of my connections. So I thought maybe one of you two could use it."

Max opened the envelope and saw a chip that looked, to her at least, a lot like the one she'd once stolen for Logan. Now she did smile. If he could use it, they'd save some money repairing the exo. Money they could put towards searching for a cure.

"Thanks," she said. Her gratitude seemed to put Alec in a big hurry.

"Well, I'm late. Night," he said, turning to the elevator. Max saw he was carrying what appeared to be flowers wrapped in paper. What the hell? She couldn't resist calling after him, "Must be a pretty hot date."

"What? Oh." Alec waved the flowers. "Not mine. I don't need bribes."

"So what's it for?"

"Sorry. Sworn to secrecy."

Max shrugged. "Be that way," she returned, closing the door. She didn't need to beg. She could find out at work on Monday. Envelope in hand, she returned to the living room.

"Hey, look -- " she began. But Logan was sound asleep, still in the chair. She smiled. Carefully, so carefully, she reached out and shook a wheel. He opened his eyes.

"Go to bed," she said softly.

"Okay," he said with a sleepy smile. "Good night."

"Night."

He rolled out of the living room, yawning. She watched him go, then quietly placed the envelope on the coffee table and let herself out.

Now she was going home to have that bath.

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

Walking down the hall to her office, away from the blinding camera lights, Grace began to yawn so hard her eyes filled with tears. She just wanted to sit in her office and not move for a little while, at least not until she had the energy for the bus ride across town. She wanted a bath, but Sam Carr had forbidden her to wet her arm -- which now had five stitches in it -- and she was too tired to rig up some kind of covering. She could get to that tomorrow.

Another huge yawn seized her and when her vision cleared, Alec was standing there. She was too tired to be startled. "Don't you people have audible footsteps?" she asked, half-smiling.

"No," Alec answered, perfectly seriously. "We're made to sneak up on people."

Grace yawned again. "What's up? Nothing else is wrong, is it?" She wasn't sure she had the energy to care if it was.

"Not as far as I know. I'm going out tonight," Alec said. "I'm just here in my official capacity as a Jam Pony messenger."

"Why?" Grace asked, mystified.

"From an admirer." Alec handed her a bundle of florist paper with a small card attached. With trepidation Grace opened the card and read,

" 'Well done. Reagan Ronald.' " She looked up at Alec, confused. "Who's that?"

"My boss," said Alec wryly. Grace's jaw dropped.

"You're kidding," she groaned. "Is this for ... I mean, because I yelled at Max ..."

"When I got the bikes back to Jam Pony, he was watching the live coverage of your heroic rescue. Bet you'll have all kinds of fans coming out of the woodwork by morning."

And then, to Grace's complete surprise, she began to laugh. The situation was just too funny. So this was what it all came down to, her great romantic pretensions: this absurd, touching bouquet of flowers from a total stranger. You wanted to be a hero, you are one, she thought. She couldn't stop laughing. Every time she began to calm down, the laughter would rise up from someplace deep inside.

Alec watched her patiently from the doorway. Finally Grace managed to say, "This is sweet. But I can't accept it. I'm not what he thinks I am."

"I'll say you're not," Alec agreed, and that set Grace off again.

"Excuse me," said a man's voice from the doorway, and Grace looked up to see Isabelle's father standing there. That sobered her. "Mr. Tyler, is everything all right?" she asked, setting the flowers gently on the desk.

"Yes, fine, thank you. I stopped by to see if there's anything you need. Could I have my driver take you home tonight? We'll be staying here so it's the least we can do."

Grace started to say no, but over Tyler's shoulder Alec made a face at her. He's right, Grace thought. I should take the ride. "Thank you very much, I would appreciate that," she said. Alec winked at her approvingly.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to leave," he said politely. He motioned at the flowers. "Just keep those. I'll, uh, make the rest of it go away."

"Thank you, Alec," Grace said, meaning it. He nodded cheerfully and was gone. Grace saw Tyler staring thoughtfully after him.

"Who's that?" he asked, and then said, "Excuse me if that sounds rude. But he's quite attractive and I'm always on the lookout for new modeling talent. Now don't go and tell me he's one of your contacts in the church."

Grace couldn't have thought of a better excuse herself. She put a regretful look on her face. "I'm afraid so," she said. "I don't think his superiors would approve."

"No, I suppose not." Tyler smiled. "Good night, and take care of that arm. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything you need. We can't begin to thank you enough."

"You're welcome," Grace replied softly as he turned and went down the hallway.

She hated to take the credit, credit that really went to Max for seeing the truth from the start, and for rescuing Isabelle in the end. But she also understood that Max needed more than gratitude right now. She could worry about thank yous, or she could try to help Max in other ways. Like she had done tonight.

I don't understand, Grace thought. I don't understand how I can love someone knowing that he doesn't love me back. I don't understand how two people can love each other so much and yet be prevented from fulfilling that love. But this where we are. This is how it is.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A uniformed chauffeur stood respectfully in the corridor. "I'll be right out here whenever you are ready to leave."

"Thank you," Grace called back softly.

She was tired. She reached to turn off her desk lamp, then stopped. What was the name of that priest Max had mentioned? Destry, Father Destry. Grace wrote the name down and taped it to her telephone. Tomorrow was a work day for Father Destry, but Monday morning she could start tracking him down, let him know Max was looking for him. She had a feeling that the Father would remember Max very well. Who wouldn't?

Carefully, she slid her coat on over her sore arm, picked up the flowers, and turned out the light. Time to go.

THE END