DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; no profits made.

Christmas in July Challenge '08: a Gift for Queen of Hearts 3

A/N: Oh, this was hard! This story is my Secret Santa entry for our second (annual?) Christmas in July Challenge/Story festival. As giftee, Queen of Hearts 3's list of requests was a simple one. Unfortunately, I just haven't seen as much of S2 as I should, so I was on risky territory. She asked only for:

1) Max and Logan, preferably together or working on getting that way, and

2) Joshua

Should be easy, right? No! I struggled so long about how and what to do for Joshua, by the time I finally had an idea for him, I was lost as to how it could also be a Max and Logan fic. Lucky for me, you put those two in the same room, M/L writes itself!

Be warned: this is an alternate S2, a version of Manticore's downfall without the virus, a more orderly raid on the facility by the FBI and others. Admittedly, it could fit within a certain other S2 AU I have in progress, but doesn't involve the cross-over going on over there.

Merry Christmas, Queen of Hearts 3 and everyone!

The Journal

One.

J.

J.

J. For Joshua.

Joshua. J O S H U A...

This is Joshua's Journal.

Two.

Max looked over at the large man with the canine features, watching as he sat curled over the creamy white pages of the journal Logan had given him, writing slowly and carefully. He was oblivious to her observation, doing all he could to make his very first entries perfect, to make the first strokes on the rich paper as special as was the gift of the journal in which he now wrote.

Logan say that Joshua's memories are important.

When Logan had given it to him, Joshua been so taken with the soft brown, suede-covered journal that he simply sat with it in his hands, staring at it, wide-eyed, gently stoking the rich nap of the cover for many minutes; he carried it with him everywhere he went for at least a week – and Max began to suspect no one had ever given Joshua a gift before.

Joshua understands. Joshua was the first of many, have more memories, stay at Father's house for a long time, not with the others who came later. Others like Joshua, and others not like Joshua.

It had been weeks before he would put even the first mark in it: first afraid it would mar the beauty of the pristine pages between its covers, Joshua then fretted over what he should do with the pages, unwilling to sully the parchment-like leaves with anything unworthy of such a gift.

Joshua was the first.

I was first.

Logan say Joshua's memories most important of all.

Logan give Joshua this journal to keep all thoughts on paper.

Three.

It had started, oddly enough, with the government's overwhelmed and ham-handed push to investigate what they had found. Even having access to some of the Oversight Committee's reports about the project, the FBI teams had been stunned at what they found, stumbling into the heart of a science experiment gone way past its original scope and intent, one that had taken far more tries than had been documented to get to its original goal – producing super soldiers. And once Manticore had been exposed and the facility's residents, a collection of Manticore-created beings of every description, had been discovered, the FBI and the authorities who ordered the raid found themselves at a complete loss for how to cope with the enormity of its discovery.

Max was one of the first to be interviewed about Manticore, more than willing to spill all she knew, all she remembered, filling several long sessions to provide them with all her memories and the knowledge she'd gained with Logan's help. After that, they offered her a job of sorts, asking her and a few others to join them several hours each week to help with the transgenics' debriefings, and to offer their insight for the direction of the investigation. Initially, Max had no interest in getting too cosy with yet another government group. But then they explained they wanted to develop some manageable system of 'reparations' for the transgenics – after all, the captives were brought into the world by a government program run amok – they were owed something, at the very least decent shelter and food, medical care if needed, some assistance in assimilating into the outside world. Along with Max, a couple others from the X5 and X6 series who had been out on assignments, including her thankfully-brief "breeding partner," were asked to help with the apparently genuine but cumbersome efforts to find a way to ease the transgenics out into the wide, wide world.

But the first order of business for Max and the others locally was to assist with the investigation of the Project, and the promise of actual prosecution for the myriad of atrocities committed in the more than two decades of Manticore's existence was enough to engage Max's tireless efforts to help. It was soon discovered that the higher the series, the easier it was to "debrief" them: trained from birth in military doctrine, the later series responded well to military investigators used to pulling information from soldiers after missions, after screw-ups ... after crimes. Conversely, it was also found that with the earliest series, the unfortunate offspring of Manticore's first large-scale experiments were twisted by their long years of physical and mental abuse, isolation, lack of nurturing human contact ... in short, even if they might once have been capable of effective communication with early education and loving care-givers, the lives they had led as the first experiments in Manticore's fiendish history left them, at best, "unreliable" as witnesses to their own torture. The middle series fell at various points between the two.

And then there was Joshua.

Joshua, Max learned largely from the man himself, had been the very first, and was one of a kind. And despite his appearance and his not-always-human physical and cognitive development, at first Joshua was raised almost as any other child might have been, in the home of his creator, his "Father," Sandeman. Joshua was later joined by his "little brother," Isaac, and then, after Sandeman fled in the wake of the Pulse, Joshua had briefly been a captive of Manticore, too. It was due to Joshua's cleverness and a guard's underestimation of the human-canine that Joshua escaped Manticore – with nowhere safe to go.

Max and Joshua worked out that he must have been about seventeen at the Pulse, when Sandeman abandoned him, and eighteen when he freed himself from his cage in Manticore. He was far too clever to think he could get by alone in the City; even those guards used to the other transgenics looked at him with fear or disgust or even just curiosity, but certainly not with the look they saved for other, human-looking people. Knowing he looked different, and knowing no one outside of Manticore, Joshua "escaped" only into the bowels of his prison, hiding from guards and security cameras, finding food first in the dumpsters outside the Mess and later, in the kitchens themselves, skillfully skirting the security system or finding ways to confuse it. He even managed to "ride along" on not one but two bug-outs, when Manticore, on the verge of exposure, pulled up stakes to relocate.

So if anyone could give them insight to all that had gone on at Manticore, all the torture and all the gruesome, Frankensteinian experimentation, it should be Joshua.

But it wasn't working.

Max rode up the elevator to Logan's place, leaning against the back wall in exhaustion that was far more mental than physical. Poor Joshua wanted to help them, and was trying to help, but he didn't seem to be making sense: from his early years with the "Father" he wanted to defend but who clearly saw Joshua as a fancy lab-rat, through his middle and adult years, increasingly isolated and speaking to no one, he was an eye-witness to Manticore's obscenities but a distant observer only, without full information or a basic frame of reference with which to connect and understand. The more he tried to be helpful, the less his accounts matched what they'd learned from other sources – and no one could figure out why.

Max sighed as the doors opened, and she pushed off across the hall to let herself into the warm penthouse, and, even more appreciative than usual, gratefully drew a deep breath of the rich, sensual aromas of dinner, of comfort, of Logan...

She paused an extra moment, savoring the sensations of being back here – of being back with Logan. She hadn't had much time with him since she'd returned, what with the investigation of Manticore running 24/7 and her efforts to get back in the rhythm of Jam Pony. Logan had been a rock; he was always there for her, waiting for her to get acclimated, always calm and strong and endlessly patient... they were both keenly aware of where they'd left off before Zack interrupted and she'd been dragged back to Manticore; they both knew they each had suffered in their months apart. Each of them was feeling a little awkward about how to pick up the pieces and move forward – but each understood that the other wanted desperately to get back to that place, that floor, that kiss, more than anything.

And that knowledge left Logan with the patience of a saint, just happy to have Max home and ready to do everything in his power to right any wrong she might feel. It left Max trusting and secure that, even if she had her hands full now helping with the prosecution of Manticore and the assimilation and socialization of the transgenics into the world, when that job was done and she could really give him her full attention, Logan would still be there, at her side, waiting for her...

She'd lingered long enough, eyes closed, leaning back against the door, that her thoughts were interrupted by the gentle sound of wheel on wood, and she opened her eyes, straightening with a self-conscious smile. "Hey," she offered, not moving.

"Hey," Logan's look of concern was softened only slightly with his curious smile. "You alright?"

Max took a deep, tired breath as she nodded; her smile widened but took on a sad aspect as well. "Yeah ... just thinking how good it was to be back, and just walk in like this ... how good it feels, to be here." She paused, colored a bit to shrug, "must be the comparison, huh?"

He came closer, watching her with that look she saw from him often now, his concern for her, his desire to make things right for her, the way they'd been before. She always thought she would hate such a look; she knew that from anyone else it would have made her feel uncomfortable, as if she were somehow different with her captivity – but from Logan, with the look of love for her always mixed in with his concern, it simply made her feel wanted ... even cherished. Her smile softened as he neared.

And at her shift of expression, his did too, looking a little more hopeful for her. He raised his hand to take hers gently, loosely, tracing his thumb with hers idly. It was something he'd done a lot, since she'd returned, she noted: he would reach out to her, touch her, just as if to restore their connection – maybe to reassure himself she really was back. The thought moved her...

"You're worn out," he chided gently, his voice as soothing as the welcoming scents had been. "You've been at it without a break since you got back. What about a night off, and catch up on some sleep? I happen to know a place," he started smiling a bit wider now, his eyebrows lifting and his voice taking on a tempting, sing-song quality, "where you could take a long, hot bath and have some hot chocolate right there, as you soaked ..."

"Oh, Logan, you're killin' me here," she moaned comically, and his smile widened to the point where all his concern was chased from his eyes. "How many days has it been? Six?"

"Eight," he corrected, the concern nibbling back only slightly, which he seemed determined to push out of the way. "Unlimited refills on the hot chocolate, Max..."

She was tired ... and his offer so tempting ... and she could see that her giving in to this luxury would even make him happy, too. She relented, anticipating the evening, "only because you insist," she grinned, the old Max clearly in her words. The brightness of his beam in return touched her more than words could say...

Four.

Others live only inside Manticore. Only Joshua see both inside and outside Manticore until some X-4 allowed to go outside. Only Joshua see outside after X-4s not allowed back outside. Only Joshua, until X-5 allowed outside.

Logan had learned quickly after Max's return that her schedule would be erratic for a while, that she was back at Jam Pony, trying to prove to Normal that she'd returned for good and would be more dependable than ever, but also running out frequently to the old hospital site out of town, where the FBI and less-clearly identified government types were trying to make sense of what they'd found. She was on the go around the clock – but also was drawn back to his place – back to him. Even within the first few hours of her return he learned that she had missed him, maybe almost as much as he'd missed her, and believed that if she felt she could, she'd just hunker down in the Penthouse with him and let the world take care of itself for a while.

But when it came to her family – her suddenly much larger "family" – Logan knew she was no more capable of staying away than he was capable of ignoring Eyes Only's projects. And as much as he wished he could have her to himself, so they could get to work on whatever they were to each other now, he knew he could wait. The obvious signs of Max's concern for him, when he first saw her back and thought she might be a mere hallucination, her clear preference for staying with him when it was time for her to get back to Jam Pony or the hospital ... all those things gave Logan all the patience in the world. None of those other things would last forever, he would remember, and then Max could settle back into her old life again...

But in the meantime Logan kept things as accommodating for Max's unscheduled visits as he could: warm, comforting foods kept ready in slow cooking pots, ready to serve in moments, cleaned and pared vegetables on hand for immediate eating or quick steaming or stir-fry, fruits whole or sliced, for snack or impromptu desserts ... even a chessboard up, chess pieces in place, or an old movie that just happened to be casually out on the table, if it caught her eye...

On this visit, Logan had ready for her a hearty beef burgundy over buttered noodles, fresh lettuce and other vegetables tossed in a salad, and fresh bread Mrs. Moreno had sent down when she learned that Max ("after being kidnapped, my goodness!") had come home...

This evening, though, as they ate, Logan had sensed that something more specific than the usual overwhelming issue of "what to do now" with Manticore had been bothering her, and gently pulled it from her. Joshua, it seemed, had become a central project of the team that sought information to build the decades-long history of the place, given his unique perspective and age, but they were getting nowhere. "He wants to help, but they're not communicating – I'm no help, either. It's like we're all speaking different languages."

Logan nodded. "I know I've only talked to him a couple times, but I wondered about his language skills – I mean, it's normal to have a larger receptive vocabulary than expressive one, for a language learned in the normal way – but Joshua's gap between the two seems unusually wide. At first I thought maybe I'd overestimated how much he was understanding, but he caught it all, no problem there..."

Max looked a trifle defensive for her canine brother. "Nothing wrong with Joshua's mind; he's as smart as any of us..."

"I didn't mean that he wasn't," Logan explained, "but his brain's language centers might have been affected with the mix of canine and human DNA – if his olfactory processes are so much closer to canine than human, for example, his language processing might be too – so he might have more adjustment to make to use human language than others would."

Max registered the completely valid point and nodded a little. "Sorry," she shrugged a little, dropping her gaze and sliding her fingers over to his. "I guess I keep forgetting you're already in the loop." At his easy shrug of forgiveness, wrapping his fingers around hers, Max sighed. "I think it's more than the language, though, it's ... it's his orientation. The military investigators are fine for the X4s, 5s and 6s – we all know what it's like to be on the receiving end of a mission debrief. But I just don't think Joshua ever went though anything like that."

"Makes sense. If he was the first successful transgenic life created, then his survival would have been the primary goal. Once he seemed stable and thriving, then they just probably observed and recorded. Maybe they hadn't thought about what to then do with their creation."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "Figures. They would have had to have a few more successes like Joshua, then a few more individuals who came out just as planned on the drawing board when they played with their genes to get whatever result they intended, all before they could develop a whole program to have in place for when we were created." Max looked to Logan again, trying not to feel yet another wave of disgust for the enormity of the project that had spawned her. "And after all that, even though he was captured for a while, and underwent their regimen of testing and everything they'd want from him – then he was out, alone, on his own, no one to talk to for years." Max considered it again and felt as if tears wanted to come. "Hell, Logan, after all that, it's a miracle not only that he communicates at all, but that he'd want to."

Logan nodded quietly, still holding her hand in his and giving it the tiniest squeeze. "You're right," he murmured. "So how can we help Joshua get his story out?" He thought for a moment then recapped, "the military's debriefing style and staff aren't going to be any more effective on Joshua than on any civilian," Logan began, thoughtfully. "They might get something, but not much. Not the real information, the real story, underneath, things that Joshua might not even realize he knows."

Max heard a tiny shift in Logan's voice, and as she watched him, she saw him warm to the challenge, as if it was an Eyes Only mystery ... or rather, an intriguing story. After all, that was the word he used, and Max saw that Logan was on to something...

He was shaking his head, imagining the assignment. "No, for Joshua, you need someone who will really listen to him, to get him to talk about himself and his life ... you know, to get to know him, what makes him tick ... and then get to the business of asking more focused questions that will help him remember. Since a lot of it may be really unpleasant for him, it would be a good way to build his trust in the one doing the interview, and might let him be more comfortable in describing what he went through. If they're as good a listener as they ought to be, all they have to do then is to methodically follow up with more questions built on what Joshua says, rather than just rigidly follow their own agenda." He'd looked off across the room as he spoke, unseeing, his words light and distant, as if imagining the process. "You know – maybe that's the problem, Max..." He glanced back to her, seeing her again, but still focused on his thoughts. "Joshua was never really a part of Manticore, but always on the fringes. He's not going to know it from the inside, because they never dealt with him much, directly. But if you ask Joshua about his own life, what he did, what he saw and experienced – since it happened nearly all within Manticore's walls, that's the information you'll get. You just need to make it clear to Joshua that you're interested in learning his life story, what he's done – not ask him to tell you what he knows about Manticore. He probably figured in comparison with the rest of you, he knows nothing."

Logan hadn't noticed how, as he spoke, Max had turned to him, her eyes first narrowing in assessment, then opening wide with enthusiasm. He'd also, Max realized, missed the most obvious solution to their dilemma.

"You need someone like a good biographer, or someone doing an exposé..." he continued.

Barely containing her grin, Max turned to face him fully, her eyes carrying a meaningful nudge, "or a good investigative journalist?"

At her words – and her implication – Logan forgot his musing and looked to the dark eyes that now bore into his, clearly willing his assent in her plan. "Not that the feds would just agree to let someone in, all because he thought he could do their job better than they could," he responded, cautiously.

"C'mon, Logan, think about it! You just came up with an idea none of them did – one that Joshua would appreciate. He liked you. And you're good at talking to people – you ask questions that make a person know you're really interested..."

He shrugged, self-deprecating. "Just a standard journalist's trick..."

She leaned closer and challenged, "are you telling me that your interest in your conversations with me, all that concern and 'tough day, Max?' was just your inner journalist yanking my chain?" Her eyes narrowed again, but playfully now, a sure sign, he noted in satisfaction, that the weight of the day had been lifted for her, and he reacted to the wide, teasing grin that appeared at the end of her question.

He lifted her hand, still in his, and brought her fingers to his lips for a brief, brushing kiss. "No," he grinned, "for you it's nothing but sincere."

"You are good," she smirked. "So would you do it? If I can get you in, would you try?"

"Of course," he nodded, "I liked Joshua too," he fibbed just a little for Max, having felt a bit too overwhelmed and intimidated by Joshua to fall fully into "like" just quite yet. The look he received in return, he decided, was well worth his little white lie.

Five.

Logan worry that Joshua ...

Logan worries that I have some language problems, that dog DNA makes it harder to speak and write language like he does. Like the others.

Logan had a lucky life, Max says. Even with getting shot. Logan grew up in big house, lots of money, many good schools, many friends. Many people talking with Logan, all the time, many teachers. No one to tell Logan not permitted to talk. No one to tell Logan may not call self "I" because "I" is only for people.

The suggestion that Logan meet with Joshua to draw out his "story" was readily accepted, given that previous efforts had gone nowhere and that, she'd explained to those in charge, she'd told Logan all she knew about Manticore anyway, well before they'd caught her again. Once they extracted Logan's solemn vow not to disclose what he learned about Manticore – if there was anything more for him to learn – he was given a hearty blessing to meet with Joshua any time, any where, as long as he tried to get the information in fairly short order, and without causing an embarrassing sighting out in public that they'd have to explain before they were ready. With those caveats, Logan began meeting with Joshua, daily...

Six.

Logan is a good man. Before, I thought no one was good enough for Max. Max saw me and did not run. Said my teeth were cool. Max was only surprised a little at first, and then she looked at me like she looked at any other people.

Ha. She looked at me better than she looked at Alec. She makes funny faces when she looks at Alec, and I think almost every one means she wishes he would stop being so Alec. I don't tell Max, but I think it is a little bit funny. Like books say brothers and sisters are together.

Different than Isaac and Joshua. Different than Isaac and me. Now that Manticore is different, I will go to Isaac and tell him I am sorry that I could not get him away from the guards who hurt him. Maybe there are doctors who can make his pain go away.

"Hey."

Logan looked up to see his angel in his office entry, smiling down at him, a look of radiance in her expression – for him, he marveled. "Hey," he grinned back.

She'd been smiling a lot more in the past several days, especially for him, ever since he'd been working with Joshua. Thank heaven my wild hunch paid off, and Joshua is telling us about his life, Logan thought again, happily. It's made Max feel a lot better about the whole investigation out there...

But he hadn't expected her this early today. "Did Normal suddenly grow a heart and give you an afternoon off?" he teased.

"Oh, yeah, and he gave us all raises too," she rolled her eyes, but the grin didn't fade. "I ... just ... wanted to come by and say thanks."

"You're welcome," he said immediately, giving her his most charming smile, "what did I do this time?"

She rolled her eyes again and sat in the chair beside him, saying, "I saw Joshua this morning, before leaving the hospital for work. He showed me the journal you gave him, Logan," her eyes shone now, her appreciation deep and clear. "Hours later, he was still so excited – and he's all wrapped around himself, worried about what to write first." She laughed softly at the memory, but continued, "Logan, I think maybe that was the first gift he ever got." She watched the surprise and understanding fill his eyes, and rolled the desk chair closer to his. Leaning in to offer him a sweet, warm kiss, she felt him respond and, tasting his lips another long moment, pulled away, smiling for him. "And if that wasn't enough, to tell him it was so he could keep his own thoughts in it, those he wanted to keep for himself or those he wanted to share, his choice," she paused, the idea still touching her. "It just meant so much to him."

Logan smiled, pleased that Joshua has been happy with the journal – and even more pleased that Max was also taken with the idea. "Well, it seemed only fair – he seemed to enjoy being able to talk about himself and his memories, but they were still more what we wanted to know, less just what he wanted to say. And there were times I think he wanted to talk about some things, but" Logan paused, remembering, "just ... wasn't sure if he could ... or should." He was quiet another moment, and Max could see that Logan had been affected by Joshua as well. "You know – we've asked a lot of him, to be so candid, given all that he's gone through, what he found had happened to his brother Isaac. I don't know that I could trust anyone, after all that."

Max nodded, and with a small smile, she nudged, "now you see why I've been spending so much time out there, seeing what can be done to help get everyone out of there, but into a place that's safe – and where they can start a better life, the way I did."

Logan focused back on the lovely face, and relaxed into another smile. "Yeah," he agreed, and, to lighten her mood a bit more, said enticingly, "They had some fresh salmon at the market today."

"Fish!" Her eyes lit up, and Logan could almost imagine her twitching a tail in anticipation. "Yummm," she purred. "Does that mean you have enough for two?"

"Would I dare get salmon and not enough to share?" he grinned.

"Not if you value your life," Max grinned evilly. "Need me to get anything on my way back?"

"I think I have it all," he said, "but if you can give me a call maybe twenty minutes or so before you get here, I can have it cooking and nearly ready when you arrive."

"I could..." she leaned closer, "or I could just come over... and help..." she smiled, and added, in feigned innocence, "have I ever told you that ... that watching you make dinner for me..."

Her words trailed; Logan was riveted by her lips, her eyes, moving again so close to his, but he managed an inarticulate, "... uh- huh?"

"... is pretty hot," she laughed softly, almost surprised that she managed to admit it. "So ... if I would just happen to ... show up..."

"I can ... just ... start then..." he murmured, his lips nearly brushing hers.

"Uh-huh," she echoed his earlier reply, and leaned in the last tiny space between them for another lingering kiss. Finally breaking away from him, she said softly, "I have to get back to work ... but don't start cooking without me..."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he vowed, first looking a bit stunned with her overt flirting with him, but quickly shifted into a brilliant beam with what it meant. "Except... maybe... dessert?"

"You have my permission to make dessert," she grinned, the cocky Max resurfacing as she stood. "Anything else, I'd say use your own judgment."

With that, she turned on her heel and bounced out of the room, leaving a still surprised and endlessly buoyed Logan in her wake...

Seven.

Max is a good friend to all transgenics. To me.

Logan is a good friend, too. Logan came and talked to me to learn about Manticore, but he asked about me. He came after the investigation was done, too, to talk, and to teach me writing, language, many things. Logan is interested in my ideas. No one before interested in asking me about me.

Logan is good enough for Max. But Max knows that. Max and Logan, together, they look different. Better. Happier. Max's eyes are different when she looks at Logan, and Logan's eyes are different when he looks at Max.

I think it's what love looks like.

I asked Max if she loves Logan and she answered five other questions but not my question. Her cheeks turned pink and she would not look at me.

I think that means she loves Logan.

Logan will come to see me again tomorrow. I will ask him, tomorrow, if he loves Max.

I think I know what he will say.

"Hey, Big Fella." Max broke her musing, moving closer to Joshua as he sat at his table, writing carefully into his journal.

"Hey, Little Fella," Joshua beamed. "Surprised to see you."

"Good surprised, I hope," she smiled. Such smiles were coming more and more easily to her, Joshua noted; maybe they were coming easier to him, too. After all, with every day that passed it was easier to believe that the ghouls haunting them both were finally exorcised, and that gave each of them hope. "I brought you some groceries," she added.

"Oh – thank you, Max," the man stood, looking down at her and on into the bag she carried. "But Logan say he bring groceries when he come tomorrow."

"I'm sure he will – but," she reached in the bag to pull out the familiar box, waggling it temptingly, "I bet he won't have Little Debbies..."

"Little Debbies..." Joshua sighed. "Love Little Debbies..." He took the box happily and opened it, pulling out a wrapped cake, and politely offered the first to Max.

She grinned and shook her head, and as Joshua tore into the plastic wrap, he nodded toward the table. "You've gotten a lot of pages written now, Joshua."

He nodded. "Like to write. Logan say 'it's a safe way to let out what's on your mind without making anyone mad or hurting anyone's feelings.'"

"Sounds like Logan," she smiled.

"Logan is good man, Little Fellah. Different than all the other Ordinaries at Manticore," he added, using the term he'd heard the other transgenics use in his time since Manticore had been invaded. "He is good to all the people there – not afraid of transgenics."

"Yeah, I see that too, Big Fellah," her voice softened as it usually did when she spoke about Logan.

"So you tell him that?"

She blinked, surprised for the second time now by Joshua's interest in her relationship with Logan – and getting her to "step to the real," as Original Cindy had once put it – much as Kendra and Cindy had ever been. Surprised enough by his question that she wasn't as glib with her response as she usually was, she stalled, "well, not that, exactly; I ... well, he knows that I ... that we..."

The effect of the doggy eyes were almost comic, his disappointment in her response. "You tell him, Max. Better he hear the words from you."

She snorted softly and tried to play it off, asking "he put you up to this?"

"Logan not put up anything. Just ... looks at you with hoping eyes. Like you look at him. Joshua ... I ..." he tried out the pronoun, carefully. "... never see that look before. It's ... special. Max special. Logan special. Max and Logan should be special together."

Max wavered, looking at the unusual man. Even he's so certain it's right, she wondered. "But what if it's not in us, Joshua?" she heard herself voice her main fear to this man, the very first chimera of them all, alone for so many years. "Do you think Manticore made any of us so we could be 'special together' with anyone?"

"Little Fellah have that look for Logan – means Max made perfect to be special with Logan," he said with such certainty Max didn't even notice the awkward way he said it. "And Logan not made by Manticore. His look matches Max's look. Special together," he concluded.

"Yeah," Max sighed, with a tiny smile appearing. "Maybe with Manticore put away for good, we can figure out just how to work on being special together."

"You tell him tonight," Joshua decreed. "No time like the present."

"No time like..." Max's eyes narrowed as she wondered at his words. "More of what Logan says?" Seeing the shaggy head nod, Max's grin went higher. "Logan is a smart man, too."

Eight.

April 16, 2021

It has been a year since Manticore was shut down, and since I have been free to talk with the others. It has been a year since I started this journal. A year since I met Max and Logan.

Some of us still have to hide, most of the time, but they are working to get Seattle and other places more used to us. Soon, we can stop hiding. Alec thinks next time they have a show with my paintings I can be there too. Maybe soon for everyone.

But there are more and more people who know about us and aren't afraid. Logan was the first Ordinary I met who wasn't afraid. Max told him everything about Manticore, so he could expect some of us look different. But he was special. He didn't keep looking at his watch. He talked to me just as if I had all human DNA. Talked to me and looked me in my eyes when we talked. Max did too.

Max and Logan are special. They have always been special. And now they are special together.

Joshua put down his pen and sat at his table for another moment, thinking over the last year. He had a home, friends ... people who cared about him. A life.

He closed his journal – the fourth one, in fact, since that first one Logan had given him – and stood, turning to look again at his latest painting, a special one he'd painted as a gift, as a surprise. He walked over to the painting and gingerly touched the surface, testing the paint. Not quite dry yet, but it was okay, it would be dry by tomorrow.

He looked at his clock; Max and Logan would be by any minute to pick him up for the ride out to the grounds of the old veterans' hospital that at one time housed Manticore, and now served as a safe home to many not yet ready to live alone, out in the community. The anniversary of their release would be celebrated by those who would understand its meaning: most of the transgenics, a number of those who had become important to them, those who had shared the highs and lows of past year.

Joshua crossed over to pull out a drape for the painting, shaking out its creases and any dust it might have attracted. They might not be making an announcement tonight, and they might not tell him first, but Joshua knew it was coming soon, and was glad the portrait would be done when they did.

There was a knock at his door, followed by Max's cheery voice. "Hey Joshua – you ready?"

He grinned again at the year, at his life – at the painting. "All ready," he called, happily, with one last look to the smiling faces of Logan and Max, together, on the drying canvas before he gently tossed the drape over it. With a feeling of satisfaction – and the anticipation of the celebration that awaited them – Joshua went to the door to greet Max and Logan, his special friends, for their victory celebration...