CHAPTER 10

Nathaniel brushed his hair out of his eyes and scowled at the cookbook lying open on the island in front of him. He hated vaguely-written recipes! This one called for three medium potatoes. How the hell was he supposed to know whether his potatoes were medium or not? Why couldn't the damn recipe just say a cup of potatoes? Or two cups? If he didn't have an exact measurement, how was he supposed to know if he had the right amount or not?

Unconsciously biting his lower lip as he worked, he painstakingly chopped three potatoes - hopefully medium ones - making sure that each crisp white cube was exactly the same as the one before it. When he was satisfied that they were as close as humanly possible, he swept all of the rejected pieces into the trash - then immediately regretted it. How much had he thrown away? Was it enough to be a medium potato? Or maybe a small one? Maybe he should do another one, just in case he didn't have enough. But then he might have too much.

God, he hated cooking! Logically he knew that Logan wouldn't care how many potatoes were in the stew, but every instinct shrieked that it was imperative to get it exactly right.

Or Else.

His gut clenched and he forced the 'or else' back into the dark recesses of his mind, relentlessly focusing his thoughts on the task at hand. Logan liked potatoes, he reasoned, so if he was going to err it would be better to have too many. He got another potato from the bag, carefully peeled it and laid it on the cutting board in front of him. Just as he set the knife over it and started to push down, a voice spoke from behind him.

"Get your teeth out of your lip, Thaniel." At the same time, a firm hand covered his and pressed down, deliberately moving the knife as it did. The same hand picked up the ragged chunk of potato it had created and tossed it into the pot.

"Logan! You ruined my stew!"

"No," Logan corrected. "I made it imperfect. Which is ok, right?"

"Right," Nathaniel agreed reluctantly as Logan poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the island. He hesitated over his selection of carrots, then, aware of the other man's eyes on him, quickly chose two at random. "You're not supposed to help me, you know," he reproved as he rapidly peeled and sliced them. "I'm supposed to learn to do it on my own."

"I know," Logan agreed amiably. He snagged a crunchy orange coin and popped it into his mouth. "But I'm not perfect either. How was therapy today?"

"It was all right. We talked about holidays." He paused to chew and swallow his own bite of carrot. "I didn't make an appointment for next week or the week after. I told the receptionist we're going to be out of town. I hope that's ok."

"It's up to you," Logan reminded him. "We aren't going to be gone the whole time, though. You could have scheduled for a different day if you wanted to."

"I know, but I don't want to change my routine."

"Uh huh. Did he give you any new exercises to do?"

"No, he just said to keep on practicing the things we've discussed and work on the journal," Nathaniel answered without thinking, then cringed at the opening he had given the older man.

"How is the journal going?" Logan asked, right on cue.

"It's fine." First Dr. Gordon, now Logan, he thought in exasperated frustration. What was their obsession with that damned journal?

He still didn't think he needed a therapist but he liked the one Logan had found. Dr. Gordon neither pressured him to share his innermost feelings nor seemed shocked or appalled at what he did reveal. In fact, Nathaniel secretly admitted, he rather enjoyed their conversations - or he would if the doctor would quit bringing up the damned journal.

One of his 'suggestions' was for Nathaniel to keep a daily journal, writing

One of his 'suggestions' was for Nathaniel to keep a daily journal, writing a page or so every night before he went to bed. It didn't have to be in-depth or philosophical, merely recounting what he had done that day was acceptable.

Nathaniel hated the idea. The day was over and done with; nothing could be changed so why go over it again? He had learned long ago not to dwell on the past or worry about the future. The present - making it through the current day - was the only thing that counted.

Unfortunately, Dr. Gordon and - by extension, Logan - didn't see it that way and both insisted on nagging him about it.

Luckily, Dr. Gordon had also assured him that the journal was private. He could write whatever he wanted to and the doctor would never ask to see it or read it. Nathaniel had taken that literally and wrote exactly what he wanted to - nothing. And when the doctor asked if he was writing every day, he smiled and lied without a qualm. After all, he reasoned again, he was making the doctor happy, which in turn made Logan happy, so he might as well be happy, too.

"You're writing in it every day?"

"Y-yes." He stared intently at the recipe in front of him, surprised both by the stutter and by his inability to meet Logan's eyes as he spoke.

He didn't understand it. He had never had trouble telling falsehoods before. His ability to maintain an open, trusting, innocent look while lying through his teeth was one of his best assets, and one he had never had a qualm about using to his advantage. What the hell was Logan doing to him?!

"Thaniel?"

"What?" he stalled.

"Does Dr. Gordon think you're writing in it?" Logan raised one eyebrow in polite enquiry.

"It's a stupid idea!" Nathaniel swept up the pile of carrots and almost threw them into the stew pot. "The day is over and done with. What's the point in dragging it out and wallowing in it? It's past! It's history! Why can't I just let it go and move on?"

"I don't know," Logan admitted calmly. "But Dr. Gordon must think it will help or he wouldn't ask you to do it. And I don't like the idea of you lying to him."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. I need to finish making dinner and then work on my math," Nathaniel stated flatly.

"All right," Logan agreed. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. You've done enough." He regretted the sharp words as soon as he spoke but other than a slight tightening of his lips, Logan ignored them.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asked instead.

"I need to go to the bookstore and pick up your order," Nathaniel stiffly accepted the change in conversation, "and I thought I might do some Christmas shopping. Why? Is there something else you need me to do?"

"I thought we might get our tree tomorrow or the next day."

"Are we getting a tree?" he asked in surprise. "Is it worth it when we're leaving in a week?"

"I think it is," Logan replied. "It doesn't matter that we won't be home Christmas day. We can enjoy it until we leave."

"Ok. I can shop another day instead."

"Or maybe we can combine shopping with getting the tree," Logan offered. "I still need to do part of mine and you won't have to carry everything on the bus."

They continued discussing Christmas, work and other non-controversial topics as they ate dinner but Nathaniel's mood remained dark.

He longed to resolve the situation with Logan but he didn't know how. He couldn't lie to Logan but at the same time he couldn't promise to write in the journal. It wasn't just rebelling at something he thought was stupid, he simply couldn't do it. There was no point to it.

"I'm going to do my math," he announced abruptly. He scraped his uneaten stew into the trash, rinsed his plate and put it into the dishwasher. "I'll wash the pans later."

He did try to study but he couldn't keep his mind on it and finally gave up in disgust. Removing the journal from the drawer where he had stashed it, he sat and stared at it. It was a simple spiral notebook; he hadn't bothered to waste his money on a fancy leather one.

It was just a notebook and he wrote things in notebooks all the time. It was part of his job. So why couldn't he write a couple of sentences in this one? 'I got up this morning. I'm going to bed tonight.' He opened it to the first page and started to write the date but his hand froze.

/You don't write stuff down. You don't keep records. You don't keep memories. You take each day one minute at a time, you don't look ahead and you don't look back. That's the only way you survive./

He threw the pen on the desk with a frustrated groan, narrowly missing Hinx, who snorted indignantly at him. Nathaniel picked the cat up and hugged him, then pressed his cheek against the soft, gray fur. "Oh, Hinx! What am I going to do?" he whispered.

"Thaniel?" Logan paused in the doorway, as if uncertain of his welcome.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

Logan entered the room and perched on the desk beside him. "I came across a quote in my reading the other day that made me think of you. I thought you might want to put it in your journal. If you write it several times you could fill a page and then you wouldn't be lying to Dr. Gordon about it." He handed Nathaniel a slip of paper and left the room as quietly as he had entered it.

As Hinx followed him out, Nathaniel read the line on the paper, then stared at it for a long time. He didn't have to do this, he told himself, twisting and turning the paper between his fingers. He could go on lying to Dr. Gordon with no problem. Logan would never check up on him or even bring it up again. He could keep everything exactly the way it was and no one would ever know.

Finally, with a long sigh, he picked up his pen and began to write, 'What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.'

~~~

"Have a holly, jolly Christmas, it's the best time of the year!" Nathaniel sang along with the radio as he took a pan of cookies from the oven and placed them on a rack to cool. He hadn't actually celebrated Christmas for several years but he still enjoyed the season. There was something special about the sappy movies and carols, the lights and decorations, the frenzied shoppers rushing through the stores trying to find just the right gifts for relatives they hadn't spoken to since the prior Christmas.

And he would be joining them this year, he thought happily. He hadn't met most of Logan's family but Phyllis had sent him a list and he intended to buy something for each person on it. Fortunately she had sent him a list of suggestions as well, all small and portable so he could pack them for the trip.

He unconsciously nipped his lower lip between his teeth as he removed the cookies from the pan, carefully attempting to keep each one perfectly round as he slid the spatula under it and lifted it off. They had come out fairly well, he thought proudly; only two were obviously misshapen and that was easily taken care of. He simply ate the evidence.

"Morning, Thaniel. What smells so good?" Logan asked, sniffing appreciatively as he came in from the workroom. From his cheerful demeanor, Nathaniel guessed that he had just murdered another one of Raymond's assistants, probably quite violently.

"Morning, boss. Cookies."

Logan looked at the neat rows of cookies already cooling on the counter, admiring the detail of the brightly-colored Christmas trees and Santa faces molded into sugary white discs. "You baked these yourself?"

"Uh-huh."

"I like the look," Logan admired the butcher's apron over plaid flannel sleep pants and a long-sleeved tee, "but I can't believe you went to all that work. I usually just buy a dozen from the bakery." He gave Thaniel a good morning hug and kiss before pouring a cup of coffee and sitting down on the opposite side of the island.

"I thought about it but this seemed more Christmassy. It's a lot of hard work, but it's worth it to provide you with fresh-baked cookies," he explained with a saintly smile, pushing the box of pre-formed cookie dough out of sight.

Logan laughed. "You're too good to me. And don't forget to put the empty box in the recycling, not the trash."

"I didn't use all the cookies so I'll put it back in the freezer," Nathaniel told him with an unrepentent grin. "Try one of the trees. I think they have peppermint in them."

"Are you still going shopping this afternoon?" Logan asked after he had chewed and swallowed.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"I killed off Charlie this morning," Logan confirmed Nathaniel's suspicions, "so I thought I'd go along and we can get the tree at the same time. We can have lunch at the mall if you want to."

"Sure. That would be great. Give me a few minutes to clean up and get dressed, ok?"

"Go get dressed," Logan suggested instead. "You baked, I'll clean up."

"What are we going to do first? Where are we going to get the tree?" Nathaniel asked as they stepped outside their building. It was a beautiful day. Snow crunched under his boots and he could see his breath if he squinted, but the sun shone brightly and the sky was a vivid cerulean blue. He paused to put on his sunglasses and patted his pockets, making sure he had wallet, phone, keys and iPod.

"That lot on 18th and Lincoln," Logan decided. "They look like they have pretty good trees and they deliver. We can pick out the tree and then do our shopping."

Logan proved to be as meticulous about choosing a tree as he was about everything else. Nathaniel was pretty sure they examined every tree on the lot, shaking them to check for loose needles, peering into them to check the straightness of the trunk, circling them to check for holes or flat spots.

"What do you think?" Logan asked when they had finally narrowed their choices to three, a Douglas fir, a Noble fir and a Scotch pine.

"I kind of like the Scotch pine," Nathaniel decided, squinting at the tree in question. "It's the tallest and best-shaped."

"I think it's my favorite, too. We're going to have to buy some more ornaments, though. I had a table-top tree last year."

"This one will probably need a few more," Nathaniel agreed, surveying the eight foot tree with satisfaction.

They paid for the tree and arranged an evening delivery, then Logan added a pine garland, two candle rings and a wreath as well.

"If we're going to decorate, we might as well do it right," he explained as he put his wallet away and they started back to the car.

"I'm not complaining. I like Christmas," Nathaniel replied with his ready grin. "Are we going to do lights around the windows, too?"

Logan thought about the ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall windows in the loft and blanched. "No."

"What about one of those, huge, inflatable snow globes for the hall?" Nathaniel continued cheerfully.

"No."

"A life-size Santa and sleigh for the roof?" he persisted.

"No."

"How about a--"

"Nathaniel!"

"Yes, boss?" he asked innocently, eyes dancing.

"Where do you want to eat lunch?"

After stopping at the bookstore to pick up Logan's order, they had lunch at the mall and then began their shopping. With much consulting of Nathaniel's list and cheerful arguing over their choices, they managed to finish the purchases for Logan's family and buy a large supply of lights and ornaments before the older man called it quits.

"I'm shopped out," he declared. "And I still have to go back and get that sweater for my sister."

"Logan!" Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "That sweater was lime green!"

"She looks good in lime."

"It had black poodles on it!"

"She likes dogs."

"I give up," Nathaniel sighed. "I can't believe your taste is that bad."

"It isn't," he replied with a grin. "I'm still paying her back for telling Mom and Dad I was the one who set fire to the backyard."

"Logan, when - and why - did you set fire to the backyard?" Nathaniel stopped walking to stare at him in fascination.

"When I was twelve." Logan gave him a small shove to get him moving again. "David Tooley and I were trying to shoot flaming arrows into the grill and I missed. Are you done shopping?"

"No," Nathaniel replied regretfully. "I still have a couple of things left on my list. Why don't you go ahead home and I'll take the bus when I'm done."

"No, that's all right. I'll put this stuff in the car and meet you at Starbucks in an hour. Does that give you enough time?"

"Yes, but you don't have to wait," Nathaniel protested as they got on the escalator. "I can take the bus."

"I know you can. But it will be dark by the time you get home and you'll have packages to carry. I'll get a cup of coffee and work on Charlie's murder while I wait."

"I thought you killed him off this morning."

"I did, but it needs to be bloodier. I think I'll go back and torture him a little more before I garrote him." Ignoring the nervous, sidelong glances of an elderly woman listening to their conversation, he escorted Nathaniel off the escalator and took his packages from him. "Meet you at Starbucks in an hour. Call me if you need more time."

"Logan!" Nathaniel helplessly watched him disappear into the crowd and huffed in exasperation before returning to his shopping. Just once, he'd like to win an argument with that man.

It didn't take long to pick out the few gifts he had left, and handing his credit card over to the register clerk gave him the usual quiet thrill. It was amazing what an effect it had. Before Logan, they wouldn't have even allowed him in this store. Now they smiled and chatted as they rang up his purchases and bagged them, then wished him a happy holiday as they handed back his card and the receipt.

He was on his way out of the store when he saw a rack of women's sweaters near the door. He paused to browse through them, half-wishing he hadn't already gotten Phyllis' gift. There was a pink one with beaded white snowflakes across the front that he thought she'd like. He was hanging it back on the rack when he saw the one behind it. It was plainer than the pink one, a deep blue with a simple pattern of darker blue beading at the collar and cuffs.

For some reason, it made him think of his mother. Blue was her favorite color and she was always cold in the winter. She would love something like this, he thought wistfully. He ran his hand over a sleeve soft as down, then impulsively returned to the register with it.

A quick stop for mailing materials and he was on his way back to Logan. As he approached Starbucks, he paused yet again, this time to look at a window display of unique Christmas ornaments. One in particular caught his eye and he began to laugh. It was a perfect gift for Logan, he thought with a chuckle as he pulled out his wallet and credit card once more.

"That's the last of it," Logan announced as he dumped a final armload of bags onto the bed in the guest room. He glanced at his watch. "It's too late to start anything for dinner. Would you rather go to Mama Rosa's, get take-out or have something delivered?"

"Pizza?" Nathaniel asked hopefully. "We can eat while we decorate the tree."

"All right," Logan agreed. "Why don't you order it and then start sorting out this stuff while I take the car back to the garage?"

"Ok. Any I shouldn't look in?"

"No, I've already gotten your gifts."

"Really? I haven't seen any--" Nathaniel stopped abruptly and Logan laughed.

"They're at Joe's," he replied with a chuckle. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

It didn't take long to order the pizza or separate the decorations from the gifts so Nathaniel began wrapping while he waited for Logan to return. After finishing the ones he had purchased for Logan, he picked up the one for his mother.

He admired the sweater again, picturing her wearing it before wrapping it in tissue paper and gently laying it in the blue and silver mailing carton. He quickly penned 'To Mom, with love from Nathaniel' on a gift tag and tucked it into the folds, then sealed the box and printed his mother's name and address on the label in neat block letters. It was when he started to write the return address that he returned to his senses.

What the *hell* was he thinking?! What made him think that she would be interested in a gift from him? Or that his father would let her keep it if she was? And he sure couldn't put his return address on the package. There was no way he was going to let his father know where to find him, or anyone else in that God-forsaken town. He was better off without all of them and the sooner he remembered that the better! Picking up the box, he hurled it across the bed, relishing the thud it made as it hit the headboard.

"Thaniel?" Logan called as he entered the loft. "I'm home!"

"In here, boss," Nathaniel called back. "I'm wrapping gifts. I'll be out in a minute."

"Sorry I took so long. Traffic was bad and then I stopped at the corner market and picked up some eggnog," Logan apologized when Nathaniel emerged from the guest room. "Did you order the pizza?"

"Yeah. Half sausage/pepperoni, half ham/pineapple, all extra cheese. It should be here any time."

"Why don't you build a fire and put on some Christmas music," Logan suggested, "while I clear a spot by the window for the tree and get out the ornaments."

By the time the tree arrived, they were eating pizza and looking at the box of Christmas decorations Logan had brought out.

"What's this?" Nathaniel asked, fingering a tiny crocheted snowman.

"That's one of my ornaments from Mom," Logan explained. "She either bought or made a special ornament for each of us every year until we were twenty-one."

"Did she make this, too?" Nathaniel lifted out a hand-knit throw in festive rows of red, white and green.

"No, my grandmother made that. I usually toss it over the back of the couch." He suited action to words, then held out his hand. "Come on, let's get this tree decorated."

As Nathaniel was hanging the last strands of tinsel, Logan went into the bedroom and came back with a small box. "I got a special ornament for us." he explained self-consciously, holding the box out to Thaniel. "We don't have to use it if you don't want to."

Nathaniel took the box from him and opened it, then gazed into it for a long time, his throat working as he tried to keep his emotions under control. Nestled in white cotton batting was a flat oval of etched glass about the size of his palm. A tiny cabin in the pines was engraved at the top, with 'First Christmas Together' in elegant script beneath. Below that, in a plainer font, it read 'Logan and Thaniel' with the date at the bottom.

"Oh, boss," he murmured huskily when he thought he could control his voice. He wrapped his arms around Logan, resting his head on the older man's shoulder for a moment. "I-- It's-- I-- Of course I want to."

"Don't drop it," Logan warned with a rough laugh. "Where shall we hang it?

"Near the top," Nathaniel decided. He took the ornament from the box and together they hung it just under the angel. "I have one for you, too," he added shyly. "I was going to give it to you for Christmas."

He retrieved the gift he had purchased on his way to Starbucks and handed it to Logan. He hoped Logan would like it. Maybe not, though. It was meant to be a humorous gift, he hoped Logan understood that and appreciated it but maybe not, maybe Logan would see it as poking fun at him and it was definitely a shallow gift compared to the ornament Logan had chosen and it was a stupid gift and he never should have gotten it--

His miserable thoughts were interrupted by Logan's shout of laughter as he opened the box. "You like it?" he asked cautiously. "You don't think it's stupid or disrespectful?"

"Of course I don't think it's stupid or disrespectful!" Logan declared. He put one arm around Nathaniel and hugged him tightly as he admired the small porcelain figurine of a little brown hen sitting on her nest. It was so finely detailed that he could almost hear her clucking at the tiny yellow chick peeping inquisitively from under one wing.

"It's perfect." He gently kissed Nathaniel on the brow before hanging it on the tree next to the other one. "Thank you."

It didn't take long to finish decorating the loft, hang the garland and wreath, and clean up. "Do you want the last piece of pizza?" Nathaniel asked as Logan took the empty boxes into the guest room and brought out the gifts Nathaniel had wrapped.

"Not right now, but leave it out and I'll probably eat it later. I'm going to put these gifts under the tree for now, all right? We can pack them up right before we leave."

"Ok," Nathaniel agreed. He put cookies on a plate and poured eggnog while Logan put thick, red candles in their new candle rings, lit them and built up the fire. He turned off the lights and they sat on the couch together, drinking their eggnog and watching the flickering light of the fire reflected in the lights on the tree. After a while, Nathaniel set his glass on the coffee table and curled up against Logan with a sigh of pleasure.

Logan echoed his sigh as he put his arm around the younger man's shoulder, treasuring the move. Thaniel was loving and returned affection easily but he rarely initiated contact.

They sat in silent contentment for a while, each lost in his own thoughts, then Nathaniel whispered, "Could we--" he paused, then began again, "do you think we could make love in front of the fire?"

"I'd like that," Logan assented, standing and drawing the younger man to his feet. "I'll be right back."

He went upstairs and returned a few moments later with a blanket, condoms and lube. Nathaniel had a log on the fire and, as Logan paused to watch, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to one side. Unaware of the erotic show he was putting on, he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, slid them down his legs and stepped out of them, exposing his strong, muscular legs. As he raised his arms and stretched luxuriously, the firelight gleamed on his lean torso, highlighting the curves of his firm, rounded butt and shadowing the crevice. Logan made an involuntary sound and he looked around inquiringly.

"Just admiring the view," Logan explained sheepishly. He spread the blanket on the floor in front of the fire, then held out his arms. Thaniel stepped into them willingly and Logan brushed his lips lightly over the younger man's. They were soft and warm, open and yielding beneath Logan's probing tongue.

"You taste like eggnog," Logan murmured when he pulled away. Eggnog and sugar and the indefinable taste of Thaniel, a flavor he would never grow tired of.

"So do you," Nathaniel returned softly. He placed his hand over Logan's cheek and slowly ran his fingers over the soft ebony beard."But you're wearing too many clothes." He unbuttoned Logan's shirt and pushed it off, then did the same for his jeans, stroking and caressing as he drew Logan down in front of the fire.

As usual, Logan let him take the lead, allowing him to set the mood and pace. Tonight he seemed to be in a quiet, almost contemplative mood and their lovemaking was slow and easy. When they had finished, both were content to lie tangled together and drowse by the fire.

Logan turned his head so he could watch the deep ruby coals and flickering flames, savoring the warmth of the fire on his bare skin, and let his thoughts drift until they turned to the ornament Thaniel had given him. He readily admitted he fussed over Thaniel like a hen with one chick but he wasn't sure why. It wasn't that he didn't think the young man could take care of himself, he had seen more than ample evidence that he could. He didn't remember ever having these over-protective feelings toward any of the other men in his life. It just felt right with Thaniel. But was the fussing too much? Did he make Thaniel feel inadequate, like he couldn't handle things on his own?

"No," Thaniel told him sleepily. "It's fine, boss. I kinda like it."

"You reading minds now?" Logan asked, raising one eyebrow teasingly.

"No, body language, and I'm pretty good at reading that," Nathaniel propped himself on his elbow and looked down at Logan with a cheeky grin.

"You--" Logan's reply was interrupted by the muffled ring of his cell phone. He aborted Nathaniel's attempt to get up, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him back down. "They can leave a message."

"But, boss--" He could feel Thaniel's tension but young man acquiesced.

The phone quit ringing and Nathaniel relaxed, then immediately tensed again as the land line began to ring. "Your mother?" he asked, raising himself on one elbow again.

"Could be," Logan agreed with a grimace. She frequently called both numbers in quick succession if she didn't get an answer to the first one.

When the cell phone began to ring again, Nathaniel sighed, got to his knees and fumbled to get Logan's cell from under the afghan on the couch, snagging it at the same time. To Logan's amusement, he arranged the throw with one hand, covering them to the waist, as he handed the ringing phone to Logan with the other.

"She can't see you through the phone," he laughingly pointed out as he flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Logan? It's Todd. I need you."

"What's wrong, Todd?" Logan asked with a sigh.

"I went to a party and I had too much to drink so I got a ride with Scott and he got arrested for DUI and I'm at the police station--"

Nathaniel made a sudden, sharp movement and Logan's attention wandered. "Are you cold?" he whispered, pulling the afghan up over the younger man's shoulders.

"No, I'm fine," Nathaniel replied softly. "Just a cramp in my shoulder."

"Logan, are you listening to me?" Todd demanded. "Have you heard anything I said?!"

"Most of it," Logan acknowledged absently, motioning Nathaniel to roll over and then straddling his back.

"Well, are you coming or not?"

"Not," Logan decided as he attempted to massage Nathaniel's shoulder one-handedly. "Why don't you call a cab?"

"I *told* you! My wallet was stolen. Come on, Logan! I'm counting on you."

"Count on somebody else, Todd. I'm busy tonight." Logan pressed the off button and tossed the phone to one side, leaving both hands free for Nathaniel.

"We should get up and get ready for bed," he said sometime later, as they lay sated and relaxed once more.

"Yeah," Nathaniel, his head back on Logan's chest, agreed. After a long moment, he sighed and sat up. "You need to go to bed and I have work to do. I think I found the talisman you're looking for. I'll email the pics to you, ok?"

"Ok. I'll look at them in the morning." Logan stood up and pulled on his jeans before turning on the lights and going into the kitchen. He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, removed the cap and took a long swallow before going to get the last piece of pizza from the box.

"Thaniel?" he called. "Didn't you say there was a piece of pizza left?"

"Yeah, I left it in the box on the table."

"It isn't here. You're sure you didn't put it away?" Logan asked.

"I'm positive." Nathaniel buttoned his own jeans and walked over to check the empty box. "I left it right there!"

"HINX!" they chorused, both pair of eyes unerringly nailing the cat perched on the arm of the leather recliner.

Hinx stared at them blandly and then inspected one pristine gray paw. Satisfied that it was clean, he delicately used it to swipe a last dab of sauce from his whiskers.

"I guess he was hungry," Nathaniel offered as Logan glared irritably from the empty pizza box to the animal so smugly washing his face. "You want me to make you a sandwich or something?"

"No. I shouldn't have eaten it anyway." Logan patted his stomach ruefully. "You don't need any more of me to love."

Nathaniel laughed. "Good night, boss. I'll see you in the morning."

"You could have denied it!" Logan protested as Nathaniel headed toward the workroom.

"But it wouldn't have been as much fun," Nathaniel called back over his shoulder, laughter and love both clearly apparent in his voice.

He sat down at the desk and picked up the piece of paper lying on his laptop. He was still half-laughing as he read it, then pulled out his journal. Opening it to a new page, he began to write the new sentence, 'The greatest gift is a portion of thyself.'

TBC