A/N: Takes place shortly after 'Flushed'…

Possessions

(Because possession is 9/10 of the law)

"This is pointless," Max growled. "We've been at it all morning; my feet are starting to hurt. We're never going to find any."

"Somebody told somebody I know that their girlfriend's sister found them at that big drug store on Mercer Street. We should at least check it out," Kendra answered, trying to sound hopeful but not quite succeeding.

Max and Kendra had started their shopping early that day. First, they thoroughly explored the shanty stores in the International District. Not finding what they were looking for, they moved on to the more affluent stores downtown and finally to the public market. As morning quickly became afternoon, they were starting to run out of ideas on places to shop. They were tired, discouraged, and cursing the Post-Pulse economy that made basic shopping so difficult.

As they made their way to the north end of the market, Max remembered they weren't too far from Logan's building, and she thought about the USB drive safely tucked away inside her jacket pocket. It contained information about some major baddie who was doing something un-noble that had attracted the attention of Eyes Only. Max hadn't paid much attention to the particulars, she just accepted the mission. Getting the data off the guy's hard drive had been a simple in-and-out job, and she had been carrying the information around with her since retrieving it late the night before. Max originally intended to take it to Logan after she and Kendra finished shopping, maybe bullying him into making lunch for her as payment, but it seemed as if there was no end in sight to their little shopping nightmare.

Max felt a prickling anxiety about not getting the intel to Logan sooner. His investigation was probably at a standstill until she delivered it to him, and he was most likely waiting around for her. She felt guilty for not bringing it first thing that morning, or even late last night. Then she felt a rush of annoyance at herself for feeling guilty. Why was she sweating so much about Logan Cale's quest for a happy world full of justice and fluffy kittens? When did she start caring about crap like that, anyway? He would get the files when he got the files.

But he said they were important, the anxious little voice in her head reminded her.

Oh, screw it, she rationalized. If she went now it would save time later and it would be a distraction from how boring their shopping trip had become and Logan always had something good to snack on. After pacifying her inner bitch with appropriate excuses, Max made her decision.

"Mind if I meet up with you at the drugstore? I've gotta run a quick errand." Max asked, intentionally keeping it vague. Kendra didn't need to know everything.

"Haven't we been doing that all morning?"

"Yeah. I just need to drop something off at a friend's. It's on the way and it will only take a minute, OK?" After all, Kendra didn't need to know everything.

"OK. Which friend?" Kendra asked.

"Just a friend. I helped out with a work thing and now I just need to take some stuff over," Max explained, assuring herself that Kendra didn't need to know everything.

"No problem," Kendra replied, completely unfazed. "Which friend?"

Hell with it, she already knows everything. "My friend Logan," Max answered in a carefully level tone.

"Oh, Logan. OK. Why didn't you just say so, Max? I'll come with you."

"You don't have to," Max said. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wondered why she bothered.

"I don't mind," Kendra answered with a bright smile and something Max suspected was very similar to a knowing smirk. As they walked the few remaining blocks towards Logan's building, Kendra explained to Max that she had been looking forward to meeting Logan for awhile now. She said she had been wanting to thank Logan for helping them get back into their building after they had been evicted, and Max found herself thinking that Kendra had already said it in a phone call. She explained that she had heard so much about Logan from Original Cindy, and Max wondered exactly what she had heard. By the time they were in the elevator on the way to Logan's apartment, Max had an uneasy feeling building in the pit of her stomach, but she couldn't figure out why.

When they reached Logan's floor, Max walked straight in as though she owned the place, much to her roommate's amusement. As soon as Max opened the door, they heard two voices coming from the partitioned area directly in front of them. Logan was working with his trainer in his therapy room, and Max and Kendra stopped just outside of the doorway, watching him.

Logan was on his exercise table, half sitting and half reclined, supporting himself on bent arms. He wore sweatpants, but his shirt had been a hindrance to the exercises and Logan had discarded a while back, leaving it hanging over the arm of his wheelchair. He was doing reversed push-ups, allowing his back to come close to touching the table before pushing himself to a forty-five degree angle and slowing lowering himself down again. Bling noticed Max and Kendra walking in and nodded his greeting while he reminded Logan to concentrate on his abs and his triceps as he continued to count the repetitions out loud.

Max and Kendra stood just outside the doorway, watching. Max narrowed her eyes and smirked in fascinated appreciation, observing the way the muscles contracted in his arms as his pushed himself up and then in his flat abdomen as he carefully lowered his body down again with carefully precise motion. She heard the smallest sigh escape from Kendra, who had raised her brow and was biting the inside of her lip at the sight, wondering exactly how long the man had been at it to have just the right amount of sweat glistening on his shoulders and torso. Max's internal clock was affected as time seemed to slow down for a few seconds.

"Good," Bling continued. "Now push yourself all the way up to sitting on the last one."

At the twentieth push-up, Logan put forth an extra burst of strength, pushed himself off from the table and sat upright, coming face to face with an audience of two gaping, ogling women. Shock immediately registered on his face closely followed by embarrassment. "Max!" he said in surprise.

"Hi," she offered, hoping her cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

"Hi," he returned, wondering how long they had been watching him.

"Hi," she repeated, realizing that the conversation would quickly become awkward if one of them didn't provide more sustenance. She continued, "We were in the neighborhood, so I thought I would bring by that thing we were talking about yesterday. You should check it before I go to make sure it's accurate, because I can go back if it's not…This is my roommate Kendra, by the way," she added as an afterthought.

Logan smiled and greeted Kendra politely, uncomfortably aware that his social skills were suffering under their combined gaze. To Max, he added, "Thanks. I'll check it right now."

"You'll finish your set first," Bling interjected.

"Kendra, meet Bling, my babysitter," Logan added, fixing his trainer with a defiant look.

"Fine," Bling conceded, "you know we'll add two next time to make up for it." And with a good-natured smirk and a nod towards the ladies, he walked away, leaving Logan alone with Max and Kendra.

Another painful moment passed in silence while he grew increasingly self-conscious about his exposed state, desperately wanting cover and a change of scenery and an escape from inquisitive female glances. He silently despaired when he realized his chair was at the other end of the table, and facing the opposite direction. His therapist usually brought his chair to him at the end of the session, but he apparently neglected to do so this time. Logan imagined that Bling had walked out and left it that way on purpose in retaliation for the unfinished set, or maybe for the babysitter crack. He realized he could always ask Max to help him. But that thought made him shudder inside, and he decided the odds were more likely that hell would freeze over and Hitler would ice skate to work.

Logan turned and began the awkward and clumsy task of moving to the other end of the table, still feeling their gaze on his back after he turned away from them. As he lowered himself into his wheelchair, Kendra strained her neck trying to see his back at the strange angle. Max noticed and nudged her hard, making Kendra gasp silently and mouth "What?" as Max glared at her.

Logan sensed the mortifying exchange behind his bare back but ignored it with as much grace as he could muster. "If you wait for me in the living room, I'll be out in a few minutes. Just make yourselves at home," he called over his shoulder as he retreated.

Once Max concluded he was out of earshot, she turned on Kendra and said in a fierce whisper, "Don't stare at his scars like that! He's really sensitive about them."

"I wasn't looking at his scars!" Kendra defended herself indignantly. "I was checking out his butt. God, Max, I'm not insensitive."

Max wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she decided not to and led the way into the living room instead. Now that Kendra was no longer distracted, she turned her attention to the layout of the apartment, taking in all the luxurious touches that she thought had disappeared in the Post-Pulse world. "My God, look at this place," she said, sitting on Logan's sofa and running her hands along the soft leather. "I thought places like this only existed on TV. No wonder you like to hang out here; he has everything."

"I don't just hang out here because he has nice stuff," Max informed her.

"Ah," Kendra leered, knowing there was only one other reason to spend so much time in a man's apartment. She leaned back and began to leaf through the books Logan kept on his coffee table.

Max was saved from having to answer by Logan's reappearance. He had put on a clean shirt and taken the time to dry the sweat from his face, and he looked as though he had regained some of his dignity as he moved towards his computers.

"So, you feeling alright?" he asked her discreetly as she handed him the thumb drive. A return bout of tremors had caused her to seek refuge at his place two nights back. Being with someone who knew her secrets and doted on her when she didn't feel well was a vast improvement to having her seizures alone on the cold bathroom floor.

"Yeah, I'm good," she answered quietly with a small smile. It was a new feeling having someone who cared about her health like that. Kinda nice.

She leaned against his desk while his fingers blurred over the keyboard and his eyes darted back and forth as he skimmed the files she had liberated. After a minute, his face lit up with a victorious smile and he said, "This is perfect! This is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Max."

"Nothing to it," she shrugged but returned his smile.

"What are you guys looking at?" Kendra asked over Logan's shoulder. The books about abstract expressionism and gritty photojournalism had only held her attention for a minute, and she had come to investigate.

"Nothing much," Max answered casually as Logan cleared his monitor screen. "I just brought him some information he needed about a work related problem."

"Research and what not, for an article I'm writing," Logan added. "Very helpful stuff."

"Oh," Kendra smiled with understanding, assuming it was really porn. Why else would they hide what they were looking at and sound so uncomfortable? She didn't judge; whatever moved their furniture.

"So, Kendra, are you a bike messenger with Max?" he changed the subject.

"No, I teach Japanese and work as a translator when I can," she answered.

"Really?" Logan's eyebrows shot up in genuine interest. "Hajimemashite. Ogenki desu ka?"

Kendra's face lit up with a bright smile as she answered, "Genki desu. You speak Japanese?"

"No, actually, that was two thirds of my repertoire," he answered sheepishly.

"Well, that was absolutely perfect," Kendra assured him with a huge grin. Max glanced back and forth between the two of them during the exchange, not enjoying a conversation she couldn't follow and wondering what they were saying to each other.

"You know," Logan said, "A friend of mine writes for a scientific magazine. He was telling me that he's covering a Japanese scientist who's coming to do a lecture in Seattle next month, and he needs to hire someone to translate the notes beforehand. If you like, I can give him your name and have him call you."

"Really?" Kendra beamed. "That would be amazing. I'm always trying to find jobs like that. That's so nice of you…I'd really appreciate it," she added, resting a hand lightly on his arm.

"Well, we should get going. We have a lot of shopping to do," Max forcefully jumped back into the conversation.

"So you're out shopping today?" Logan asked Max politely.

"It's more like a hunt, really," Kendra answered. "I usually have the hook-up, but we've been all over town and had absolutely no luck."

"That so? What are you hunting?"

"The elusive disposable razor! You can't find them anywhere; it's like they stopped making them. They can't be had for love or money, and trust me, I've tried both. Max and I had to quit shaving our legs last week because we were risking tetanus with our old razors. Well, I guess you know what I'm talking about," she said as she indicated towards Logan's four day growth.

"Oh…yeah…well, actually I just don't…" He sheepishly waved his hand around his face a couple of times before he realized what he was doing and stopped. Logan decided it wasn't worth explaining, and he finally just decided to smile and dropped his hand. Instead he said, "You know what? Wait here for just a minute. I'll be right back," and he wheeled down the hallway.

He returned a moment later with a small package resting on his lap, which he handed to Kendra. "Here, the hunt has ended. They're men's, but that doesn't make a difference, right?" It was a brand new package of four deluxe, triple-blade disposable razors, with anti-slip grip and moisturizing strips of aloe and vitamin E; one of the greatest luxuries on the Seattle black market, worth their weight in gold.

"Where did you get these?" Kendra asked in awe. She began to remove one of the razors from the packaging.

"No, take them all." Logan said, stopping her. "It's fine. I have more, and as you noticed, it takes me awhile to go through them," he said with a small shrug. "You should take them," he said with a sideways sweep of his eyes, including Max in the exchange to let her know she was part of the 'you' he was referring to.

"Thanks," Max said quietly, uncomfortable with her role in their three-way conversation. Her exchanges with Logan usually involved an element of control, and she wasn't happy with the direction this one had taken, or the way Kendra was looking at Logan with such admiration and gratitude. "We should go," she prompted again.

"Do you want to stay for lunch?" he asked Max.

"Some other time," she said before Kendra had a chance to accept the invitation.

Logan accompanied them to the door, thanked Max again for her help, and told Kendra it was a pleasure to have finally met her. Kendra answered, "Likewise," and Max pushed her out of the door before she had a chance to finish batting her eyes.

"Oh my God!" Kendra crowed as soon as they were safely in the elevator. "Max, you are so lucky! Original Cindy is right; he's perfect for you."

"Don't you two old ladies have anything better to gossip about? You two should save your hen parties for more important things," Max informed her loftily. "It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything."

"Well, he should be. He's totally into you." Max started to protest, but Kendra cut her off. "I saw the way he was watching you, like he couldn't keep his eyes off of you even if he tried," she let out a gusty sigh at the hopeless romance of it all.

"You just like him because he gave you a pack of razors," she reminded Kendra.

"They weren't for me," Kendra clarified. "That was his way of giving you a present." She added in a mischievous, sing-song voice, "I guess he likes your legs silky smooth…"

"He doesn't care what my legs look like."

Kendra raised skeptical eyebrows and looked at Max levelly. "So he's more of a ass man, huh?"

The rest of the elevator ride was silent.

When they reached the street, Kendra tried again. "So, is Logan completely paralyzed from the waist down?"

"Yeah, a bullet cut right through his spinal chord."

"Does that mean he can't…I mean," she struggled. Kendra knew exactly what she wanted to ask but was not sure how to phrase it without Max hitting her again. "He's still fully functional, fight?"

"I honestly don't know," Max said quickly. She wasn't about to admit the amount of time she had spent speculating about that and wondering how she could get a definitive answer. She knew she could always just ask him, but that thought make her shudder inside and she decided the odds were better that hell would freeze over and Saddam Hussein and Joseph Stalin would make snow angels together.

"You guys really haven't done it yet?" Kendra asked, her voice full of skepticism.

"Logan and me, we're not like that," she patiently explained again.

"Well then can I have him?"

"What? No. No!" Max shot a furious look at Kendra only to catch her grinning back. Damnit. As an afterthought, Max added, "You'd really want to go out with Logan?"

"Who wouldn't? Come on, Max," Kendra went on in a dreamy voice. "He's so cute and he's nice and he's rich…"

"And he's really smart," Max added, getting caught up in the list.

"I'm totally willing to overlook that," Kendra generously offered.

They headed home and Max steered the conversation to less personal matters, getting Kendra to tell her about her date last night and what she thought of the new family that moved in below them. Once she had Kendra safely engaged in other topics, Max was free to let her mind wander. She keep up her end of the conversation automatically, while she tried to figure out why her visit to Logan's had been so uncomfortable. When she failed to put her finger on exactly what had bothered her, she gave up and let herself wonder what Kendra really thought of his butt, and how she could manage to be there when Bling made him make up for the missing sets, and if she needed to repair the damage of Logan thinking that she occasionally had prickly legs.

xxxXXXxxx

This story is lovingly dedicated to my AURLCO sisters and nekkidloganphiles everywhere.

No ownership of these characters is implied, and no profits are realized.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.