Resurgam
By Rachel Wilder

Beta: Many thanks to Lenore, Jude Mustard and a fan who helped with technical details and the grammar.

Dedication: For my chica, because from A to Z, you have my back.

Spoilers: The Pilot

Rated: PG-13

Summary: The story deals with the missing three months from the Pilot.

Notes: The character of Logan Cale has always intrigued me. I wondered what he might have experienced as he went through the process of reclaiming his body and his life.

Disclaimer: All characters who appear in this story belong to their respective creators, including Cameron/Eglee Productions and 20th Century
Studios. No money is being made from the use of these characters.

I knew right away. I knew as soon as the bullet hit me, before I hit the ground, before they tore Sophie out of my arms. I knew that I would never
walk again.

For as much clarity as I have about the moment my life split in two, I don't remember much about the days after it. Drugs and denial worked in concert to cloud my memory, to divest me of what I didn't want to acknowledge, what I was not ready to deal with.

The shrink at the rehab center said I was a classic angry young man. Not everyone there was...some of them seemed to just take it in stride, but
according to my Uncle Jonas, I have the soul of an artist and I never do anything the easy way.

Even my injury...there are plenty of other people here going through rehabilitation for injuries in car accidents, falls, diving accidents, but I
got shot. Being shot hurts a lot and it's messy. They tried to pull most of the shrapnel out, but if I ever do get on a plane again, I'm going to set
off every metal detector with the shards of metal still crowding around my spinal cord. I just hope the damned things don't move, because I'm not
going back on that table again.

The hospital was a blur, a detour on the way to the rest of my life, to my tenure here at Mercy Care Center. It used to be a nursing home, but few
people can afford that kind of end of life care any more, so now they use it as a rehab center for the fortunate unfortunates like me -- guys who fuck themselves up, but have a lot of money so they can pay someone else to try and put the pieces back together.

My neurosurgeon, Sam Carr, got me set up here. Sam's a good guy and hasn't pulled any punches with me. Three days after the surgery, when the fog was finally starting to clear, he was the one standing next to my bed, ready to tell me about my condition.

I listened as he talked about pain management, treatment plans, rehab...I kind of wished I had someone there to pay attention for me, but there wasn't anyone. The nurse said my aunt had called and a young woman had stopped by one day, but no one had visited me while I was awake. I was thoroughly alone.

The bullet had destroyed my spinal cord, shredded it. The treatments that scientists had been working on over the last twenty years might have helped me, but the Pulse had made their cures hard to come by and the condition of what was left of my spinal cord didn't indicate I would get a very good outcome, anyway.

A complete injury. The words seemed so foreign to me. I didn't feel complete anymore, but rather incomplete. My body stopped somewhere south of my rib cage. I was unfinished, half-baked...incomplete.

The hospital treated my infection, got me stable and then slid me into an ambulance and sent me on my merry way.

That's when the fun really began.

"Okay, let's roll you over and see what that incision is looking like, Mr. Cale."

The view changed as the morning nurse turned me onto my left side. I had been watching the small stain on the ceiling since I had awakened at 6 am, but now I could see the pea green walls of the care facility. There was a window, but the ratty brown draperies seemed to cover it most of the time. I had asked an orderly to open it one afternoon and he gladly did...to expose the brick wall of the addition they had put onto the home fifty years before.

I could feel her cold fingers across my skin and then she hit the area of my body I liked to call the DMZ...first the touch was prickly and then nothing. From her commentary, I knew she was still examining the scar that crossed my back, but the sensation was totally gone to me.

"Looking good, Mr. Cale. It's healing very nicely. If it's okay with Dr. Carr, I think we should get you out of this bed and into the rehab room
today."

She eased me back onto the bed and I resumed my inspection of the ceiling tiles. I heard her reach for the bed control and then felt a slight wave of nausea wash over me as the head of the bed began to rise.

"You doing okay, there?" she asked.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Finally, the bed stopped and my view was now of the small mirror on the wall at the end of my bed. My
reflection was not much of an improvement over my earlier view of the ceiling tiles. I was pale, in need of a shave and getting sweatier by the
second.

"Let's try and keep you up here for a little while," the nurse said, brushing her hand over my forehead. "It's going to make it a lot easier for
you when they get you up in the chair."

She poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table near my bed and then pushed the table a bit closer, so I could reach it. "I'll be back in a
few minutes to check on you. If you feel sick, take some small sips of water. It'll help."

If I had opened my mouth to talk, I was pretty sure I would be sick, so again, I just nodded at her.

Noise filtered in from the nurses' station down the hall. I could see the hole in the wall where a TV used to reside. I was actually looking forward
to going to therapy. There had been little for me to do while I was in bed recovering from the surgery. There was no television and I hadn't felt like
reading. That had left me with way too much time to think. My future stretched in front of me like a vast wasteland. I was uncertain what would
happen, how I might cope with my new situation.

I pressed my hands down on the bed, trying to lift myself up in the bed a bit. It had only taken a few minutes after the nurse raised my head for my body to start slumping back down. As I began to lift, my arms shook and pain ripped across my back where the bullets had torn into me.

"Shit!" I called out. The pain began to recede, but the nausea came back with a vengeance. I reached for the water glass, but the table slipped away from me as it moved on its rollers away from the bed. I felt my body falling forward, and was unable to stop it. My arms banged against the
bedrails as I tipped sideways, my head finally landing near the edge of the bed alongside my legs. I tried to lift myself back up, but my arms gave
out. I could feel the bile rising in my throat and was able to turn my head slightly as my stomach began to empty onto my leg.

"You need some help there?"

I raised my head slightly so I could see who had come into the room. A tall, muscular black man in a white uniform stood next to my bed.

"Uh, yeah," I stammered, spitting slightly to clear my mouth.

The man carefully lifted me back so I was sitting upright, then turned and went in the bathroom. He returned in a minute with a wet towel and handed it to me. I wiped my face and reached toward my leg, then stopped, afraid that I would fall again.

"Why'd you stop? You want to smell like puke all day?"

I shook my head, but didn't continue.

"So what's holding you back, man?"

I took a deep breath, and then tipped my head up to look at him. "Before...with the water...I fell, I couldn't stop from going forward."

"So you need to learn how to do it a different way now. See these muscles?" He reached down to pull up his shirt and expose his abdomen. "See how I'm tensing them up? That's what you're doing as you're leaning forward and then sitting back up."

He reached over and touched the hospital gown I was wearing. "These are your abs and since you can't feel my hand, I guess you know you don't have much control over them anymore. You can't get up and down the old way anymore. You need a new way.

"So, you need to lean forward to reach your leg and clean that mess up," he said. "First, put that towel here on the rail, so you can reach it when you get set up down there."

I took the towel and placed it on the bed rail, pushing it as far toward my legs as I could manage without tipping forward.

"Now, put your right arm forward and let it catch your body."

I placed my hand on the bed alongside my hips.

"That's it, now get your left one back there, little bit further..."

I put my left hand along my left hip, a little further back than the right one.

"Okay, now push with that left hand and ease yourself forward."

I started pushing, and then stopped. The sense of falling was too much.

"Nope, man, you've gotta keep going."

I started again until my weight was resting on my right arm. It immediately began to shake from the burden.

"Okay, now bring your left arm forward, and put the elbow down on your leg, toward your knee."

I followed his direction, my body moving forward a bit more as my elbow went to rest on my thigh.

"Okay, now take that towel in your right arm and clean that stuff up."

The weight of my body resting comfortably on my left arm, I reached for the towel and began washing off the gown and my leg. When I was done, I handed the towel to the man.

"Now, get your right arm back there by your hip again and reverse the process."

He stood by and watched as I eased myself up and back against the head of the bed.

"Good job."

I smiled at him, exhausted from my efforts.

He stuck his hand out to me. "I'm Bling, your therapist."

When they told me I was being sent to Mercy for rehab, I wasn't sure I knew what that would mean. I knew that I was going to need to learn how to deal with things, but after the relative calm and protection of the hospital, rehab reminded me of the boarding school my aunt and uncle had shipped me off to after my parents died.

There was a schedule here, a hierarchy, and it seemed to be a system that I would only learn about by violating some kind of rule.

It scared me. My body scared me. My inability to control what was happening around me scared me. As much as I could accept what had happened, I was deathly afraid that I was just going to break apart, that I was going to disappear at any instant.

"Well, that doesn't look like the proper attire for working out."

I looked up to find Bling pushing a black wheelchair into the room. I had wondered the same thing, but no one had offered me anything to wear other than this hospital gown since I had arrived.

"You have some clothes here?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think my aunt sent some stuff over," I answered, pointing toward the bureau across the room. "No one has offered to help me dress, so I..."

"Well, we're going to change that," Bling interrupted. He pulled the bureau open and took out boxers, a t-shirt and a pair of pants. "Let's start with
these, okay?"

I nodded, not sure what 'starting with these' might mean.

Bling set the clothing on the side table and pushed it over where it was within reach. Then he pulled the sheets and blankets down, exposing a body I didn't recognize any longer.

"Look strange to you?"

I nodded. "Uh, yeah..." I said, clearing my throat.

"Happens to most people...but you get used to it."

Bling moved down to the end of the bed and picked up my foot. I watched with interest as he began to rotate at the ankle.

"Okay, this is range of motion and it's important that you or your rehab person does this every day. It keeps the bones and muscles healthy and
helps prevent spasms."

The hospital staff had been doing these exercises since the beginning, but no one had ever explained what they were doing to me and why.

I watched as he went from my ankles to my knees to my hips, stretching and moving each part carefully. When he was done, he helped me sit forward and untied the hospital gown. He pulled it down so it rested near my waist.

"Okay, let's start with the t-shirt."

He handed me the shirt. I attempted to lift my arms into the shirt and gasped. The pain was intense.

"Easy, man...don't try to do too much there," he reassured me as he helped me slip the shirt over my head. "Not to worry, but you're still healing
back there. You're going to need a little extra help now, but you'll be doing it on your own soon enough. Patience, Logan. That's the name of the
game."

I smiled as he spoke my name. I hadn't heard anyone use it since I had been shot. The staff was distant and polite, unwilling to call me anything but Mr. Cale.

"Thanks," I offered.

"No problem. That's what I'm here for."

Bling pulled the gown away and set it on the chair near the window.

"Have they talked about bowel and bladder with you?" he asked.

I sighed and nodded. There was no joy in learning exactly how one's body operated...or didn't any longer when it came to bodily functions.

"It's nothing to get hung up on, okay?" he tried to reassure me. "Okay, so if we're getting out of bed today, you're going to need to take this with
you." He tapped the bag hanging on the side of the bed, attached to the tube snaking from my body. "Easiest for you to get to is your thigh, so
let's get it moved over there."

I watched with some interest as he easily attached the bag to my leg, the bands holding it snug.

He then picked up my boxer shorts and slipped them over my ankles, and pulled them up to the knees. "Eventually you're going to be able to do this
yourself, but let me help you here now." He had me wrap my left arm around him and then he gently lifted me up as he slid the boxers the rest of the way up.

"Okay, now we just need to repeat that maneuver," Bling said as he slipped my pants over my feet. "Great selection, whoever brought these. These
zip-off styles work really great for access to your bag. It's important that you can get to it yourself. You'll need help now, at the beginning, but we want to get you self-sufficient as soon as possible."

It was amazing. I had met this man twice, but he was having such a calming effect on me. His manner just made it seem like it might be okay.

Bling efficiently slipped my socks and shoes on, then stopped and gave me a once-over.

"Very nice...you don't look anything like a patient now."

I couldn't stop the smile from crossing my face.

He slid the table away from the bed and pushed the wheelchair closer. "I just want you to sit in the chair for a little bit. Like I said before,
you're still healing and we don't want to cause you more damage, but it's important to keep sitting up, so that your body can adjust. Having you on
your back like you've been while the incision was closing means your heart isn't used to pumping the blood up into your head. That's why you felt
faint, why you got sick.

"I'm going to swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Okay, now let's just sit there for a minute. You doing okay, Logan?"

I nodded. I was a bit faint, but not like the day before. I watched as Bling slid a small disk onto the floor in front of me and placed my feet on
it.

"Okay, this is a transfer disk. I'm going to get your feet on it and then lift you into the chair. Okay?"

I nodded again, then watched as Bling placed his hands under my arms and easily lifted me, twisting the disk until I was standing in front of the
chair and then carefully lowered me into the seat.

"Okay?" he asked again.

"Yeah...I think..." I managed to answer. I was dizzy, but didn't feel like I would be sick. I could feel the beads of sweat beginning to grow on my
upper lip. I wanted to reach up and brush them away, but I felt like if I took my hands off the arms of the chair I would just fall out onto the
floor.

Bling lifted my feet onto the foot pieces, adjusting them slightly for the length of my legs.

"Shall we get you by the window?" he asked as he pushed me over to the window.

"No," I replied as he reached to open the drapes.

"Oh," Bling responded as he caught a glimpse of the brick wall. "Forgot you got the 'room with the view.' Well, shall we get out of here?"

"You know a place with a good draft on tap?" I asked.

Bling laughed. "Nope, but there is a nice courtyard out back."

I squinted as the sun hit my face. It had only been a couple of weeks, but the fresh air felt totally foreign to me. Bling pushed the chair smoothly,
but I felt like I was perched on a precipice, hanging over with nothing to stop me from just falling and never hitting the ground.

He stopped and reached down to set the brakes on the chair.

"That okay?" he asked me as he sat down on the bench facing me.

"Yeah, thanks." I stared at this man, finally able to meet his eyes straight on.

"Feel good to be back outside?"

I sighed and looked up at the sky. "Yeah, but it's kind of like another planet, too."

He nodded. "Funny how quickly we forget what our old life was like, isn't it?"

I smiled and nodded. I had always been a man of words, written and spoken, but now I found my self economizing with everything I said or did, as if I only had the energy to breathe and exist.

"It's going to be different for you now, but you're going to make it, Logan."

I looked at him and I believed his words. There was something about his eyes, his manner that made me know he was speaking the truth.

"It's going to take time, but we're going to get you healthy and get you back to your old life," he continued. "Getting out of bed, that's the first
step, but starting tomorrow morning, we're going to start working to see what you still have, and then we'll move on from there."

I wasn't quite sure what that all meant. At the moment it seemed to be all I could do to let him lift me into the chair and push me where I needed to go.

We sat and enjoyed the sun for awhile and then headed back to my room. The first real day of my new life was over.

"Okay, now you need to thrust as hard as you can. C'mon, Logan, I know you can do it!"

I listened as Bling encouraged me once again to attempt to roll from my back to my side. He had explained carefully how important it was that I be able to move my own body. I needed to be able to live independently and taking care of my body meant being able to move the parts that no longer moved on their own.

We had been in the therapy room for nearly an hour, working with my upper body strength, trying to develop as much of the remaining abdominal muscles I had so I could sit more easily in my chair. For as little as I was able to do, it seemed to take a fantastic amount of effort.

"One more time...c'mon, man, you can do it," Bling urged.

I swung my arm across my body, willing the rest to follow...slowly I began to tip until finally I was resting on my side, staring at the bare wall of
the physical therapy room.

"Way to go!"

I slowly raised the head of the bed. The nurse had called and said Bling would be late. I wasn't sure, but I had the sense that he worked for other
private clients. His schedule seemed to shift a little bit each day, but I had nowhere to go, so it didn't really matter all that much.

I slipped my hand down under the sheets. I had stopped wearing the hospital gown as soon as I started daily therapy with Bling. A t-shirt and shorts were comfortable in bed, with a pair of zip-off pants when I went out in the chair.

My hand moved down further, touching my thighs. I could feel the hairs on my leg. It was so odd...I could sense the skin on my fingers, but my legs
felt nothing. I explored further, moving underneath the loose shorts the nurse had helped me into that morning. My hands brushed across the tubing
leading my body. I still hadn't dealt with it personally, letting the nursing staff attend to my needs. My hand moved higher. I hadn't even looked at it yet.

"Hey."

I snatched my hand back as Bling walked in the room.

"Hey, Logan."

He hadn't noticed. Thank god.

"So, I was thinking, that we should talk about some other things today, take a little break from rehab," Bling said as he pulled up a chair next to my
bed.

I turned to stare at him.

"I'm sure you're wondering about sex."

The man could be blunt. I could feel the heat rising in my face.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Logan. It's what every man in your situation thinks about. Have you tried to see what's working?"

I looked away. I was NOT having this conversation with him.

"This isn't something to be shy about, Logan. I'm serious, man. One of the first things guys do after they wake up from the anesthesia is to take a
survey and see what's going on south of the border."

I turned my head back and locked my eyes on his.

"Seriously."

I laid my head back against the pillow and sighed.

"Any luck?"

"No," I bit back. "But I just got started."

Bling laughed. "Well, it's a start."

As Bling left, I asked him to close the door and tell the nurses I needed some time to myself. I think he understood my needs and did as I
instructed.

I took a deep breath and folded the sheets back. I reached up and grabbed the trapeze above my bed. Bling had been working on helping me dress myself this week, so I was pretty sure I could get my shorts down.

Holding myself up with my right arm, I worked my shorts down over my hips until they slipped free. Gasping, I let go of the trapeze and dropped back down on the bed.

I looked down. It was like a foreign body, limp with the tube sticking out of it, my pee running freely down to the bag attached to my bed. I reached down, unable to touch it, then finally, brushing my fingers against the tip, where the tube exited from.

It was like it didn't belong to me.

Bling's words echoed in my head. Things could change, I might get it up again, but more likely I would need medication. Sildenafil citrate still worked the best, but there were injections or different positions that could help me achieve "success."

Dammit. I couldn't even say the word erection in my head. How was I ever going to try to be with a woman if I couldn't say the word?

I reached down again and touched it one more time. It was quiet. Silent.

I thought back about the women I had been with. The girls in prep school. Mary Sue Collins...the first one. She had cried when we had done it. It
freaked me out. Jennifer at Yale. Valerie. She had been good in bed, had loved me until she loved booze more.

Who would love me now?

I turned my face away so I couldn't see it any longer. My hand returned, though, touching my silent member. How could I have fucked things up like this? How could I have gotten myself in this position? How had this happened to me?

I swiped my hand against the blanket before I brought it up to brush away the tears that seemed to come each day. My emotions were so labile now. I had no more control over them than I did over my dick.

At the sound of the tap at the door, I snatched at the blankets, trying to pull them up to cover my lower half.

"Just forgot my..." Bling stopped, his hand pointing toward the bag he had left earlier. "Sorry, man."

I lifted my hand and waved him off. "It's fine, I was just considering my options," I choked out bitterly, my voice still slightly thick with emotion.

Bling pulled a chair over and sat down next to my bed. "What kind of options?"

"Nothing...I was just...nothing."

Bling reached over to touch my arm. "This is a big change, Logan, a sudden change. Everything you knew about your life before is different, but so
much of it is going to be as good or better than it was before. But, I do want you to remember that you can grieve this loss, it's better if you do,
honestly."

I reached up to brush away the tears that had begun to fall again. Bling stood up and took my hand, carefully helping me wipe them away. I began to cry a bit harder, the stress of everything that had happened with me, with Sophie, with my parents, Valerie...all of it began to be released. Bling
moved closer, sitting down on the bed. He slid his arms around me and pulled me close.

"It's okay, Logan. Let it out, man. Let it out."

I clung to him as I continued to sob. And he didn't let go.

I looked up at the Fogle Towers as Bling went to the back of the van and got my chair.

"Good to be home?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess..." I answered. I half-heartedly assisted as Bling lifted me from the car to the chair. I was still weak, but each time I was able to help more.

Bling scanned up and down the block. "Good even sidewalk here, but we're going to have to work on those wheelies. No curb cuts."

"Yeah," I muttered. "We'll get on those as soon as we get back."

Wheelies had been a major source of contention between Bling and me. They were a standard rehab skill for paras, but at my injury level, the effort it took made me feel like I was going to tip right over and land flat on my back.

Oh heck, I should be honest...I was scared of the wheelie. It was one of those things that made me feel uncertain and out of control and I didn't like it. It was going to take more than having to get up the curb in front of my apartment to get me to perfect the skill.

Bling held open the door and I rolled past him. When I was walking, I had never noticed there was no step into the building. Now I felt incredibly
lucky.

"I was over here last week and I have to say you're in great shape, Logan. There's only a few things that are going to need to be adjusted."

The elevator dinged and the door opened in front of us. I turned and backed in so I was facing the doors. I looked up at the control panel and laughed.

"Guess I should have lived on the third floor."

Bling laughed as well and leaned forward and pressed the button for the penthouse level which was well out of my reach.

"We're going to fill that backpack of yours with a bunch of treats before you leave rehab," Bling said as the elevator began to rise. "Like a stick
so you can reach things that are above your head."

The elevator stopped and the door opened. I wheeled out into the hallway. It felt like I hadn't been here for a hundred years. I paused in front of
my door, then reached into my coat pocket for my keys. I held onto the left arm rest of my chair as I leaned forward with my right hand to unlock the door.

The bolt slid and I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Bling reached past me to hold the door open as I wheeled into the front hall.

The apartment was so silent. I could smell the scent of pine in the air. Mrs. Vine must have come to clean recently.

I paused in front of the entrance to the guest room.

"Like I said last week, we can use this room for your equipment, if that's okay. I want to bring in a table, some free weights, possibly a bike over there," Bling said, pointing to the corner of the room that currently held a bed, dresser and chair.

"Will I be riding in the Tour de France next year?" I asked, teasing Bling.

"No, but a FES bike will be good for your muscle tone."

We moved down the hallway past the room storing my computers and EO equipment. I had explained to Bling that I was a journalist, using video conferencing to keep in contact with sources around the country and the world. He seemed to buy it.

"You'll want to move your desk chair out of there, but otherwise the height on the desk looks good. We'll have to move things on your bookshelves so you can reach what you use most frequently, but other than that, I think this room is set."

I followed Bling into the living room. I could tell the chairs and coffee table had been rearranged slightly.

"I just moved things apart a bit so you can move more easily to the couch or around the table," Bling explained. "We may want to swap out some of these floor lamps for ones with lower switches, or have an electrician wire the plugs to wall switches."

I nodded, looking at the layout of the apartment with a fresh set of eyes.

"You know, you're really lucky, Logan. This apartment is going to be relatively easy for you to move back into. A lot of people aren't this lucky."

"Yeah, I know," I responded, as I headed toward the kitchen. And I did want to feel lucky, but instead I was just feeling overwhelmed at the thought of being here by myself. I didn't feel safe alone anymore and that was hard to get used to. I had never been this afraid before. A million thoughts crossed my mind. What would happen if I fell? What if the power went out? I would be trapped without the benefit of the elevator. What if there was a fire?

"So, we'll adjust the shelves and ... Logan?"

I looked up to realize Bling had begun talking about the kitchen. "Huh?"

"I was just saying that this room is going to be all about what you need to reach. We'll want to rearrange your dishes, glasses, etc. so you can reach what you routinely use. It looks like there will be plenty of space for that."

I wheeled my chair past him into the galley area of the kitchen.

"You should contract for someone to do some work on the sink. You'll need to move the cupboard so you can pull up underneath it. Possibly the same person who does the bathroom can do that."

The bathroom. I hadn't really thought about the implications in there. When I moved into this apartment after my divorce from Valerie, I had
decorated it for myself. My bathroom was a haven, a man's place to relax. I could hardly bear the thought of it being turned into a hospital-like
environment.

"Hey, Logan!" Bling called from my bedroom. I turned and followed him down the hall.

My bedroom was dark and soothing. The stress of the day and the trip to the apartment washed over me and I just wanted to crawl into bed.

"This looks all good. I don't see anything we'll need to do in here, except move some things in your closet," Bling said, turning back from the open door into my closet. I could see the crisply ironed shirts and pants hanging just out of my reach.

"You're going to find you might want your pants longer now, 'cause they ride up when you're seated, but most of these look like they can be let down, if you know a tailor," Bling said.

"Yeah, I think I have a name somewhere," I responded. "The bath?"

Bling nodded and turned toward my bathroom. I followed slowly.

"Okay, we're going to need a couple of things in here," Bling began.

I sighed heavily, looking first at the gleaming black toilet, then the glass block shower with its multiple heads. I loved that shower.

"Hey man, it isn't that bad. You're barely going to notice the changes. You should count yourself lucky. Some people, when they come home, they
can't even get in their bathroom. Here, you've got a wide door, room to turn. So, yeah, we're going to have to put up some grab bars by the toilet
and do some work on the shower, but nothing's really going to change."

I listened with half an ear as he ticked off the construction needs. They would need to alter the shower so I could roll in, add an adjustable head, a
bench to transfer to, lower the sink, and make the toilet a little higher.

"We can keep the color scheme, right?" I asked, turning to watch Bling make notes on his pad of paper.

"Well, my impression is that money isn't a problem, so I think that we can probably do something with the color."

"Yeah, money isn't the problem," I sighed.

Bling looked me over, then flipped the notebook closed. "I think it's time to get back. This has ended up being a pretty long day. I think we've got
everything we need here. You want to pack any extra clothes or anything?"

"Nope, let's get out of here," I said, ready to be back in the safe environs of my little room at Mercy.

"You've been quiet," Bling said as he pulled into the driveway at the care center. He put the van in park and turned to look at me. "What's on your
mind?"

"Nothing," I answered. It wasn't a total lie. I was so overwhelmed with thoughts that no one thought was significant enough that I could have even
explained it to him.

"You want to go somewhere? Talk about this?"

I shrugged. Part of me wanted to crawl into my bed, part of me couldn't face going back into that facility after my trip home. I was afraid of what
I had been, but even more afraid of who I was now.

Bling put the car into drive and pulled back out of the driveway. We headed down the street in silence until finally he pulled over outside a small
coffee shop.

"We'll be able to have some privacy here," he said as he turned the car off.

I sat and watched as he again unloaded the chair. I opened the door and grabbed the edge of the door, trying as much as I was able to help myself out and into the car.

"You're getting really good at this, Logan. I think you might be ready to start driving again."

Getting my auto wheels was as exciting and overwhelming to me as the chair had been. I couldn't wait to be able to go places by myself again, to have some independence, but at the same time, I was afraid of what it would mean to be on my own.

I sat at the table in the corner and watched Bling get our drinks. The young woman at the counter took her nose out of her book to make our coffee, but returned to it as soon as she had finished with the espresso machine.

"Here you go," Bling said as he set the steaming cups of coffee down on the table. I picked mine up and took a quick sip as he sat down.

"Mmm...I've missed this!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry, but what they serve at Mercy...it should be against the law."

Bling laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure there will be lots of things you won't miss when you go home."

"Yeah," I responded. "How did you find this place anyway? I have a terrible time getting coffee even with my connections."

"See that girl, at the counter?"

I swiveled to look more closely.

"She lost her leg in a motorcycle accident about four years ago. I work at a small clinic in sector seven, people who don't have the same kind of
resources as you...well, I try to do what I can."

"So, she owes you?"

"Well, I don't see it that way, but she does try to save a little java under the counter when she can and if she can't, well, then I'm..."

"Out of luck..." I responded. I took another sip of the warm liquid and turned to look out the window.

"You think your luck has changed?"

I turned back to meet Bling's eyes and shrugged. "I don't know...I don't know anything anymore. Thing is, I don't know if I have what it takes to do
this."

"What do you mean?"

I thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it in words. "It's like those obituaries you read...you know, when someone fights a courageous battle against cancer. I always read those and wondered what it was in that person that made their battle so courageous, would I have it in me? What would I be fighting for? Thing is...I'm here now and I still don't know."

Bling reached over and touched my hand. "I know you have it in you, Logan. I've already seen it many times."

We sat there for a few minutes, not speaking. I didn't know what to say. I felt so lucky to have his support, to be making this journey with him, but I didn't know how to put it into words.

Finally I looked up into his eyes. "I'm really scared, Bling."

"Of what?"

I took the last sip from my cup and set it back down on the table, staring at the pattern of the parquet wood. "Well, for one thing, I'm scared to go
home. I'm scared about getting the car. I'm scared to give up this safe chair, with its arm rests and anti-tippers. I'm afraid that I'm going to never be able to live like I used to."

I paused to take a breath and then looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm afraid that no one will ever love me again."

Bling squeezed my hand and smiled. "Those are all natural fears, Logan, and your courage is you're facing them...you're telling me about them and by doing that, getting honest with yourself, then we can figure out how to deal with them."

I nodded my head and smiled slightly. I wanted to believe that he was right.

"I'm serious, Logan. Most women aren't going to care about the chair. The only thing that will make them care is if you do. If you want to make it a
big deal, put it between you, then yes, it will be a problem. But if you can get over yourself, so will most women. Any woman that you want to be
with isn't going to see it as an issue."

I slipped the brake off on my chair and wheeled back, tucking the now empty coffee cup between my knees. How would I not put the chair first? It was the only thing I could think about.

When I returned from throwing the cup away, Bling spoke again. "Trust yourself, man. The rest will come together."

"Okay, now get your hand on the car seat, and then push up. Get over that seat, yep, like that. Okay, now grab the door with your left and...good, okay now pull up. You're doing it, man!"

I hefted myself into my Aztek as Bling watched carefully. We had been practicing car transfers for a while, but the time had come to learn how to
drive my own car.

"First, put your seat belt on. It's going to give you more stability while you're working with the chair. Good. Okay, now release the seat and lean
it back about, oh four or five inches."

I followed his directions and found myself tipped back slightly.

"Okay, now you need to lean back down and pop the wheels off the chair."

I leaned back out of the car, one hand holding the axle, the other on the chair. I still had not lost that feeling that I was just going to fall over
at any minute despite the seat belt holding me securely in the car. My center of gravity had shifted radically and I just wasn't able to adjust
yet.

I worked with the right wheel, trying to pop it off. It looked so easy when Bling did it. I had finally moved to a new chair, the one I would go home
in. I had gotten comfortable in the first chair, but it was time to have more independence. That meant giving up the arm rests, but it also meant
being able to get around a bit more easily.

When Bling had brought the chair in to me, I thought it would be easy to switch chairs, but then again, nothing about this whole process had been
that easy. I felt like I was starting all over again...I had to learn once more how to transfer in and out, how to get myself seated in the chair
properly, how to maneuver it. Everything was a learning curve and I constantly felt like I was about to flunk.

"Okay, good, now pull the wheel in past you and set it behind the passenger seat."

I carefully followed Bling's instructions, pulling first one wheel, then the other one into the vehicle. The seat followed. I sat back up so I could reach the chair, collapsed the it and then repeated the whole process of reclining my seat again. Finally in the car with my chair, I sighed.

"You still ready to drive?" Bling teased me.

"Yeah, I'm ready." And I was. What had seemed so overwhelming a few days before now seemed like one of those final steps on the way to getting my life back. I stared at the adjustments made to my trusty Bessie as Bling came around and got in the passenger's seat.

"Okay, now I'm sure you're familiar with the principles of cruise control," Bling started.

"I have been driving for a few years now," I replied, turning to smile at the therapist.

"Okay, this is an integrated system. Let's start the car."

I turned the key and my old girl roared to life. My cousin Bennett had teased me often about this car, but in a post-Pulse world, I felt lucky to
have a car at all. Getting a vehicle, keeping it running and finding gas for it were all a challenge. I had also been lucky that Bling knew somebody
who knew somebody who could outfit the car with hand controls. Again I felt guilty that my money and resources was giving me access to things that most people in my physical situation wouldn't have.

"Okay, now push that lever on the left, push it away from you. That engages the brake."

I pushed the lever, and watched as the brake pedal went down to the floor.

"Okay, now put it in gear."

I pulled the gear shift back toward me until it was in drive.

"Okay, now let up on the lever...pull it toward you...okay..."

I pulled back on the lever and we eased forward. We began rolling through the empty parking lot.

"Okay, a little faster," Bling encouraged.

I rocked the lever toward me a bit further. Suddenly the car began to go much faster.

"Ah!! What do I do!?!" I called.

"Brake!"

I pushed back the lever, bringing the whole car to a screeching halt. My body flung itself forward. The shoulder strap locked and it threw me back
against the seat.

"Okay...it's okay," Bling reassured.

I turned to stare at him.

"I thought you said you'd been driving for years," he teased me.

I let out a quick laugh.

"Okay, let's go again."

I wheeled into the therapy room and glanced around. Bling was in the corner, putting some mats away.

"Hey," I greeted him.

"Logan. Good to see you. I missed you today," Bling said, turning to face me.

"Sorry about that. I needed to see Sam Carr before I left and this afternoon was the only time they could get me in."

"So, you are getting out of here," Bling said, a smile crossing his face.

"Yeah," I replied. I drew in my breath and looked down at my feet. I exhaled and looked up to meet his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

"You're going to do fine, Logan."

"Yeah, but I was thinking..." I paused to look around the room. The facilities were very nice. The care I had gotten was first rate.

"What happens to somebody like me, but doesn't have my money? What kind of rehab do they get?"

Bling pulled over a chair and sat down. "Well, to be honest, they don't get much. With the collapse of the government and any kind of safety net when it comes to medical care, a lot of people just get sent home. And it's a nasty cycle. If you don't get good rehab, then you can't be active. If you aren't active, you get weaker. Lots of people end up bedridden. Lots of them die. Some us, PTs from this clinic and other ones around the city, we try with a clinic here and there, but there are so many more people than we can help and to be honest, I need to put my hours in here so I can make it."

I nodded. I was afraid that was what he might say. I had been thinking about it since the day we had gone for coffee.

"And so I get a new chance, everything back to normal cause I'm Logan Cale. Because I have a trust fund and a rich uncle."

"Yeah, but you need to look past that, Logan. You've got something to say to this world and yeah, you did get a second chance because of your name and your money, but you're going to use the second chance for a lot better reasons that most of the people in this place."

"Does that bother you?" I asked. I didn't know that much about Bling, where he came from or even how long he had worked at Mercy.

"Yeah, I guess if I let it, it would," he replied, in his usual no nonsense fashion.

"Well, I was thinking maybe we could do something about that," I began. "I have an offer for you. Come work for me, continue my therapy, help me with some things while I adjust to living at home. In return, I'll pay you triple what you're getting here and you'll have time for your other clients."

Bling tipped his head and looked at me. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah, I would. You interested?"

Bling stood and took my outstretched hand and shook it. "Definitely."

Bling had offered to come home with me, but I had declined. I felt it was important that I try to do this on my own. I pulled into the garage under my building and into my spot. The building manager had reassigned me near the elevator door, in a wider parking space that would ease getting in and out of the Aztek.

I eased myself into my chair and headed around to the back of the car. The lift gate went up easily and I found myself staring at the two bags of clothing and supplies that John, one of the aides at Mercy, had put in the car as I was getting ready to leave.

"Hey, Logan, good to see you back!"

I turned to see Leon, a neighbor from...was it third floor...walking toward the elevator.

"Hey," I responded, turning my chair so I could face him. I found myself faced with my first of many dilemmas. "Hey, Leon...would you mind..."

He smiled and reached into back of the car and grabbed the bags. "I'm glad to do it. And let me know if there's anything else I can help with.

Bags deposited in the entry, I was soon alone in the apartment. I wheeled slowly past the guest-room-turned-home-gym to my office. I wondered what state I might find the Eyes Only empire in. I booted the computers up and began to scan my inbox. As files continued to download, I was relieved to see that my system had worked. I had put a contingency plan into place, in case something should happen to me. The network had gone into a protected mode, with the informant database carefully protected from prying eyes.

I hadn't decided what to do about Eyes Only. Could it continue the way things were now? Maybe I should just let people think that I had died, rather than taken a temporary hiatus.

I sat until the room became dark, considering what it would mean to the people I had tried to help, to the informants who had risked their lives again and again to help Eyes Only. Could I let them down like this?

My internal debate ended suddenly at the sound of a key in the door. I quickly shut down the informant net, grabbed the pistol from my desk and wheeled cautiously toward the front door.

"Hey, I rang, but there was no answer. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I closed my eyes and nodded, slipping the gun down alongside my right leg. Bling. I had given him a key earlier that morning. He now stood in front of me with a pizza box and a six pack of beer.

"Sorry, I was...in the middle of something," I replied. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Thought you might not have anything in the kitchen," Bling said, walking past me toward the kitchen. I turned and followed him.

"Are there mushrooms and sausage on that pizza?" I asked as I joined him at the table. He pulled one of the chairs away and set it in the corner so I could pull up under the table.

"Sausage will kill you man. This primo pizza has mushrooms, onions, and pineapple. You should know better than to pollute yourself with that genetically enhanced stuff," he teased me. He twisted the top off a beer and handed to me.

"I only eat organic," I responded, taking a sip from the beer. Man, I had missed that taste.

"Whatever," he replied as he handed me a plate with two slices of steaming pizza on them.

We had finished eating when the phone in my office rang. I paused for a moment, then released the brakes on my chair and headed to answer it.

"Yeah. Hey, Matt. Yep, today. Say, can I call...really. Are you sure?"

I finished my call with Matt Sung and headed back to the kitchen. Bling was looking out the window.

"You've got quite a view up here," he said, turning back to face me.

"Sorry, only a few people knew I was getting home today, but well, you know..." I tried to explain.

Bling looked down at his feet for a moment, then looked back over at me. "Yeah, I need to explain something myself and if you want to change things...well, I'll understand."

This caught me off guard. I couldn't imagine what he had to tell me.

"My name isn't Bling. I mean, it is, but isn't how you've always known me."

I wheeled back slightly. What did he mean by this? How did I know him?

"I was born Joseph Cantine. I haven't used that name for a long time, except for..."

"For your work as an NSA operative," I finished. "You've been very helpful."

"Yeah," Bling answered. "But that was a different life."

"So...did you intentionally seek me out?" I asked.

"Is anything in life an accident?" he answered.

My hand raised to cover my mouth as I exhaled. Bling was an informant. A good informant.

"So," I began.

"So," he replied.

"Did you know I was Eyes Only?" I asked.

"Not before I came over that day, when I checked your place out. I didn't snoop...I wouldn't do that, Logan, but two and two..."

I nodded. That's why I didn't have many people come back to the apartment. The video equipment, the computers...it wouldn't be hard to come to that conclusion.

"So, I figure, you trusted me before and I hope you can trust me now," Bling said. "I'm still happy to work with you on the therapy stuff...that is what I do now, but I guess I'm saying I'm willing to do more as well."

I ran through what I knew about him...he had been trained by the NSA for special ops. He had become disillusioned by the activities of the post-Pulse government and had reached out to Eyes Only about two years before. His connections had helped on a number of occasions. He could be very helpful now, but could I trust him?

"You helped me put my life back together and I'm thankful for that," I began. "I'm...I'm not sure what to think now."

"I helped you for two reasons," he responded. "One, because that's what I do and I want all people to get their lives back after something like this happens, but I also did it because I didn't want Eyes Only to end. Let me work with you, or let me go my way, but you need to continue this fight, Logan. It's important to a lot of people."

I sat thinking. He was right. It was a lot to absorb, but what about the last two and a half months hadn't been?

"Okay, let's do it," I finally said. "But next time, you get two pizzas."

Life took on a comforting routine. As Bling had explained, taking care of myself would allow me to be more independent. It was a time to listen more carefully to what my body was telling me and to respond to it.

Slowly but surely, things went back to normal. Informants began reporting and situations began to emerge. The story of forty-seven people dying when all they wanted was a better life in Canada finally brought Eyes Only back on the air. With Bling to help with leg work, I was able to gather the info to break the story.

My hands shook a little bit as I set the video feed up. I wheeled back and forth a couple inches each way, psyching myself up for the broadcast.

I wondered what might happen. Most of all, I wondered if she might come back. Max.

In rehab there hadn't been much time to think about her. I had fixated on women in the abstract, but until I got home and had way too much time alone, stuck in my head, I didn't think as much about her.

It all came rushing back one day when Sandra, my art dealer called.

"Logan, I found your Bast statue in a black market sale. Was it stolen?"

So she had fenced it. Somehow I wasn't surprised.

"Yeah, a couple of months ago. Is it still available?" I asked.

"I assumed you'd be looking for it, so I bought it. Three thousand?"

I hoped she was worth it. Heck, I knew she was.

"Great, bring it over and I'll cut you a check. Thanks, Sandra."

I hung up and pulled out the file I had been working on that morning. The bar code on the convict's neck caught my eye again. I reached for the phone.

"Drop by. I have a little something to thank you," I told the answering machine. Hanging up, I wondered if it would intrigue her enough that she would show up. Had I sounded casual? Light? Airy? Would she handle the chair? Would she pity me?

The connection went through and my thoughts of Max had to go on hold so I could do the cable hack. It all came back to me as I began to talk.

"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a streaming freedom video."

FIN

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