Happy Halloween!
Rambling A/N: This isn’t very Halloween-y, more like a rambing slice of blah-life. My apologies, but this just isn’t my holiday!
My prompt was for a general fic, “Trick or treating in Terminal City!” Since it was for general fic, I decided to add my own challenge to write a fic that the reader could make into M/L, M/A or no ship, could add the (damnable) virus or pretend it never happened. Until I let my own leanings slip a bit in the end, I think I managed. Of course, it probably sucked the life out of it, too.
Thanks to SV/ITL for the clever Ficathon set-up!
Detente
I.
This time of night, in this part of town, it was always dark ... dank. Eerie. Intimidating. Even on Halloween.
Especially on Halloween...
Dwayne was the oldest and even if this wasn’t his idea, he had to go along and show the others he wasn’t afraid. Of course, it sounded a lot better five blocks earlier, with more lights and traffic around them, even if half the traffic was cops who might bust them for being out after curfew, and even if the lights were increasingly seedy bars, with drunks and others who probably be less safe to be around than whomever might be lurking in these shadows...
He knew their pace had slowed as they got closer, and wondered if one of the others would call chicken first. They were all pretty stubborn, he knew. He tried to look over at Mario, but couldn’t see his face. He could see Petey, though, and he looked as if he was ready to cry. Dwayne found it a bit comforting, even if Petey was a lot younger than he was. At least I won’t be the first one, he thought...
Mario, the ‘thinker’ of the outfit, piped up with another of his dumb questions. “Are you sure we can get in?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Dwayne said, without hesitation. “They get in, don’t they?”
“They have magical powers or something. Some of them just fly in,” Mario reasoned.
“My dad said they’re like ghosts; they can walk through the fence. Walls, too.” Petey’s voice shook slightly as spoke.
“My teacher said the same thing.” Mario agreed.
“Aw, that’s crap,” Dwayne announced. “My mom says even the ones that look the craziest can’t fly or walk through walls. Some of ‘em can’t even talk.” Dwayne’s information base was a little more solid than the others’, even if they pretended it wasn’t, because his mother worked as a clerk at central booking and had actually seen some of them, with her own eyes. Dwayne knew the others listened to what he’d learned about them from her, and knew that his mom saw a lot more than did most other people, who shot off their mouths anyway without knowing what they were talking about. In fact, it was what she’d said a few days ago that kept him moving toward Terminal City now, a combination of the curiosity she’d unwittingly planted in him and her sense that the transgenics were far less scary than the people on TV wanted everyone to think.
But when the trio rounded that last corner and came face to face with the west side of the block, the dirty, twisted barbed wire and riot fencing merely a deeper shade of black in the darkened place - all three stopped short, staring up at their goal.
Terminal City.
Each shivered.
Terminal City: if the transgenics didn’t get you, the radiation sickness would. If you weren’t flayed alive by the fearsome, evil monsters, you’d be turned into a monster by breathing air so toxic, one breath would give you gills and a tail. If you weren’t immediately turned into a zombie and had your brains sucked out....
A dog barked. All three jumped at least a foot.
Dwayne swallowed, hard, and tried again to remember all his mother had said, when she thought he was already in bed asleep and wouldn’t hear, especially when she was talking with his skeptical dad about one of the recent transgenic escapees on the news that evening. “Roy, he was just a child! He was only twelve or so, and he looked so scared! They treated him as if he was a rabid dog, and the things they said ... they thought he didn’t understand what they were saying and he tried to act like he didn’t. Maybe they teach them to pretend...”
“Or maybe he didn’t understand,” his father had tried.
“He understood. I watched him. He knew. He was so frightened ... and they just talked about him like he was a disease.” His mother’s voice had carried her pain for what she’d seen. “When everyone else left, I...” She had almost been afraid to confess her actions to his dad, and they discussed everything. Dwayne had really listened hard, after that... “I still had my apple, from lunch, and...” Another pause. “I gave it to him. He just looked at me, for the longest time, like he was afraid I would poison him or something. But I told him it was okay, and that he looked hungry, and that I had a boy not much older than he was...” There were tears in his mother’s voice now. “He looked me in the eye ... and said thank you. He ate it then, and smiled, and thanked me again.” She paused, then added, fiercely, “and I’m glad he escaped.”
His father had spoken so low Dwayne could barely hear. “Bonnie, you ... we need your job too, you know that! If you did anything ...”
There was another pause. Finally, his mother said softly, “I gave a scared, hungry kid an apple, Roy. No one else knew. But at least maybe he was a little less hungry. And a little less scared.”
Dwayne looked at the other two and suddenly felt a surge of bravery. “C’mon you guys. There’s a place down this way where we can get under the fence.”
II.
“Oh, c’mon, Mole, look at ‘em! They’re just kids..”
Mole grunted forcefully as he watched the trio edging their way along the abandoned buildings and alleyways of Terminal City, having breached the first perimeter, coming uncomfortably close to the building where they now stood. Kids or no, they were headed to TC’s main base, with all living and primary security arrangements in one, defendable location. “Just like all those other ‘kids’ in the mobs of Ordinaries out there, throwing Molotov cocktails and shooting off a smuggled gun or two ... just as ignorant as their fathers with even less impulse control...”
Max looked up from the floor plan she’d been studying and over to the row of monitors where Mole and Logan stood, the console now finally up and working with the cameras they’d managed to install around both Terminal City’s perimeter and the building where they now debated this new “threat” picked up by their surveillance teams. She smiled softly, leaving this one to the pair.
“Or maybe they’re just short of that ...” Logan pointed to the grainy image on the monitor and said, “the oldest is, what, maybe thirteen, fourteen? These other two - I bet that one’s not even ten yet.” He glanced up at the unyielding expression next to him and, knowing Mole wouldn’t have gone through this rite of passage himself - and wasn’t much in the mood to hear again tonight how much they had all missed, growing up in Manticore - tried, “Mole, it’s Halloween. Kids all over the country are goading each other to get up the nerve to sneak into the neighborhood ‘haunted’ house, maybe the cemetery across town ... who knows why they do, but they do, and probably have been doing it for a couple centuries. With all the half-truths and scare tactics the screamer media have been putting out there about this place - it’s a natural, don’t you think? These boys are just curious as hell, trying to show each other they’re brave, doing something their parents would never let them do, sneaking into a place everyone is saying is the most dangerous place on the planet.” He saw that Mole looked unconvinced, but he was still listening. Logan tipped his head toward the big man and suggested, “think about it - you know what makes this really great? Cemeteries and ‘haunted’ houses - they seem scary, but kids have to know, deep down, that they’re not all that dangerous, or they’d stay away. Maybe these kids see through all the crap on TV and know that Terminal City can’t be as bad as they say.” He felt a lopsided smile grow as he considered it, amused by his idea the more he thought about it. “Just think what will happen if they come in and see us for what we are. Maybe they’d put that word out, too. Unwitting cultural ambassadors...” Logan mused.
“Yeah, and what if they don’t? What if they come in, leave and then tell everyone how they were kidnaped or attacked ...”
“Would that be so different than the crackpots who are already saying those things, even though they never stepped one foot inside the perimeter? Mole, they’re just kids. Why not let them in, let them look around and get some candy and see we’re just another community trying to get by? At least they seem to want to come in. No one else does.”
“...other than the ones looking to come in and wipe us all out.”
“Okay, granted. But ...” Logan looked back to the screen, meaningfully. “These guys don’t exactly look as if they’re armed with anything. I’ll bet it wasn’t even planned. It’s probably a dare that was hatched about five minutes ago.” Logan thought the other man might actually be relenting. “We can get a couple of the others to stick really close and if there’s any sign of a problem...”
“Like wrecking the night for the kids here? Shouldn’t they be our first priority, if we’re gonna have Halloween for them here?” Mole hadn’t been crazy about the Halloween thing from the start, and this just made it even worse, as far as he was concerned. Just asking for trouble...
“Absolutely. They hassle anyone, they’re out.”
For the first time in the discussion, Logan furtively glanced over at Max, whom he could see had followed the entire debate with amusement. Her eyes now sparkled with a subtle grin, seeing that Logan was about to get his way. She pushed off the desk where she’d been leaning to cross near the pair. “Why don’t I go tell the guards to let ‘em through, if they try coming inside?” she asked, looking up to the still skeptical Mole. He wavered only the other moment.
“Whatever,” he grunted. “Just get someone - an X-5, maybe, someone who looks like them - to keep an eye on ‘em.”
She nodded and slipped out of the room. Logan turned to Mole and, not sure if it was really appropriate, still felt the need, and said softly, “thanks.”
Another grunt. “For what? Breaching security? Playing at this Halloween crap you Ordinaries seem to like so much?”
Logan shook his head. “No ... for giving it a shot. For trusting that maybe these kids are just ... being kids.”
Mole looked at the Ordinary, appraising him, grudgingly appreciating yet again that this one could look back at him without nervousness, without averting his eyes every few seconds from his reptilian features ... willing now after weeks of dealing with him, day after day, to believe that Cale was there not only for Max but for them all, offering what he could to help them assimilate into the world into which they’d all been thrown. He just shook his head. “I think I’m gonna dress up as an Ordinary for Halloween,” he said levelly, coolly, sounding so much as if he was just planning another Terminal City defense plan that the man before him reacted with a surprised blink, clearly thinking he’d heard wrong. “Doubt it’ll get me much candy here, though. Mostly they’ll think I’m just some do-gooder, Pollyanna sap.”
By then Mole was grinning - actually grinning, his ever-present cigar stuck up at a rakish angle, and Logan even chuckled. “Don’t sell it short. Trick or treating is sort of a hopeful act, isn’t it? Just going up to someone, asking for some little treat, something special, and believing that they might actually give you something?”
Mole paused again, still bothered by the competing reactions he’d always had about Halloween, ever since he’d heard about it, and his ambivalence about Terminal City’s plans for bringing it to his doorstep tonight. His grin faded, and he looked haunted as he let his thoughts play over the implications. “You know, some of ‘em are out there tonight, some of the younger ones. They heard all the bullshit about Ordinaries dressing up like us out there, using us as costumes ... they decided that they’d pass out there, tonight, at least, no one the wiser that they’re the deal thing.” Mole finally admitted his frustration. “Isn’t that just giving in, admitting that we’re nothing more than the freaks they say we are? I’d never give them the satisfaction,” he asserted, more defensively than he’d intended.
Logan nodded, quiet, for the moment, as he considered not only the man’s words, but the fact that Mole seemed to finally be opening up to him, revealing he had some emotions in there, too, after all. With a shrug, Logan said, “in an odd way - maybe that will pay off, too, in the long run ... more visibility, even if not the most flattering, leads to more familiarity? It’s all still fairly new for a lot of people out there that you even exist...”
“How damn long is it gonna take for them to get over it that we’re here?” Mole griped, his anger suddenly front and center again.
“Generations? How long did it take us to ‘get over’ the idea that people come in all colors ... and both genders?” Logan mused. “The effects of man’s xenophobia are played out lifetimes after they should have been gone. We always come further in theory and in legal principle than we do in practice.” He sighed, and looked up again to the monitors as they tracked the trio, now sliding into their building where they must have seen light and felt warmth, just as if no one was there to stop them. “Maybe with kids like these - if they see us all here, just another little community playing at Halloween ... we can help make inroads, one heart and one mind at a time.”
With another look to his stoic companion, then at the monitor, Logan turned to leave the small communications center and make his way to where ‘his’ guests would be arriving. Mole watched him go with another snort. Cale was right, of course ... Mole had learned that Logan Cale usually didn’t offer his opinion without due consideration or information to back it up. He hated to admit it, hated the implications, but they were what they were.
Still. Before Manticore went down, before Terminal City, Mole would have bet the bank there were no Ordinaries out there at all who would ever see him or his kind as anything but government issue equipment, maybe on par with a well-trained, bomb-sniffing dog. Yet Logan Cale considered each of them human, and in his quiet, stubborn way, set about getting finding ways to help them acclimate to the outside world - offering them paths to equality. Even when they goaded him, derided him, called him an outsider, an Ordinary ... He was stubborn, as stubborn as anyone Mole had ever known.
And it was thanks to Logan Cale that he was finally being given a chance to learn how to read.
Nobody had ever offered before. Nobody had convinced him he should ... or could ... and nobody had ever worked at him so long and so irritatingly that he had given in, just to get the stubborn man off his back. He tweaked the dial marked ‘west entry’ and tried to convince himself he didn’t need to read the label to know what was in the picture.
Didn’t need to ... but could, now. Cale was about as stubborn as they came.
Mole snorted away the sentimental thoughts as he looked over at the second monitor, now picking up the trio as they were confronted - Mole snorted again, some confrontation - by Cale. As long as he was right and these were just kids, trying on tough guy for size ... yeah. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
III.
Being oldest sucked, because they expected him to take the lead, going in - or at least, not hide behind them. Dwayne made sure that Mario, at least, was pretty well shoulder to shoulder with him, even if Petey hung back a step.
They’d come about two blocks into the place, toward dead center where the transgenics were supposed to all be hiding, and it had been a tomb: no sign of any living creature, no sound, no movement. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath, and any small gust of wind or skitter of a dead leaf echoed like thunder. It was even creepier than Dwayne had thought it would be, so silent...
“Are they all dead?” Petey finally asked in a hushed, fearful tone.
“No, you dope, they’re probably all watchin’ you - and waiting to pounce.” Oddly enough, the quiet and apparent emptiness had suddenly filled Mario with enough relief that it renewed his bravado, and he turned on the younger boy with a gloating leer. “Probably trying to decide what kind of dessert to have with Petey stew...”
“Shut up,” Dwayne hissed, completely unconvinced they were alone. “They’re not dead, Petey,” he added.
“They’re not here,” Mario whispered back, “watch...” He stopped walking and drew a deep breath, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hey you frea....”
“Shut up!” Dwayne clapped his hand over Mario’s mouth, pulling him to the side of the darkened alley and flattening them both against the wall. “Are you crazy?” Petey skittered along to huddle beside them.
“They’re not here, man. They bugged out...”
“Bull.” Dwayne could almost feel the transgenics’ eyes on him, so certain he was that they were still there... but began feeling a little more relaxed that even now, with Mario’s big mouth, they hadn’t come out to hassle them. Leaving them alone? Really gone - or dead - after all? Maybe as afraid of the three of them as he was of them? Whatever it was, Dwayne started to think they might not be all that much of a threat, even on their own turf. Just what his mom had said, after all...
“C’mon,” he ordered. “And keep you mouth shut, Mario, or I’ll shut it myself.” They walked through the alley in silence and into the next block, still surrounded by a tomb-like quiet ... until they came to the block’s end ...
A large, windowed warehouse loomed ahead. Light spilled subtly out of upper, hastily painted-over upper panes and through cracks in the boards along those on the lower level. There was a faint scent of cooking food, like chicken, maybe ... and once or twice, even... voices...
Three pairs of eyes grew round and wide.
“Let’s go!” Mario yelped, suddenly, ready to run the other way.
“C’mon...” Dwayne heard himself say, hunkering lower, ready to move - but toward the building, not away. “Let’s go inside...”
“Oh, I’m crazy?” Mario insisted, “and now you’re the one who wants to go inside?”
But Dwayne moved closer to the open doorway and, as he did, he soon heard Petey and Mario, with shallow nervous breaths and whispering between the two, come up behind him. Childish laughter from inside met his ears again; adult laughter came soon behind, with loving calls and teasing mixed in. Sounds like any other place, Dwayne breathed to himself. Sounds like a party...
He was barely aware of the others now as he pushed his way into the large warehouse, drawn to the lights in the middle of the large, open area set up with tables and chairs in various places, a desk or two, sort of like a lobby for a school or a hotel or a big, public meeting place...
“Trick or treat!” A chorus of young voices called out from across the room and more giggles met his ears, more adult voices, and chorus of “thank you!”’s took Dwayne fully by surprise. Kids trick or treating in Terminal City?
Transgenic kids?
He stepped in a way further, craning on tip-toe to peer over the crates lined up along near the entry, to see nearly a dozen small kids, looking to be between maybe four and seven years old, a mix of small shapes wrapped in shiny, glittery fabric or painted in colorful, clown-like make-up or feathery, snowy wings. Just ... kids. Like any kids, at Halloween - running to the next “door” for candy, chorusing for treats, wound up in the moment...
“Hey there.”
Dwayne’s heart leapt into his throat as he spun, with the others, to see that one of them had sneaked up behind them, standing between them and the exit. This one was a very ordinary, normal-looking man, tall and slender, with amused, curious eyes twinkling behind metal-framed glasses.
“Get lost trick or treating?” He took a few steps toward them, an ominous, mechanical whirring coming from him as he did, resulting in the three boys unconsciously huddling closer together. “I suspect you didn’t think you were in Sector Nine - that’s where the best candy usually is.”
Dwayne saw that the guy was keeping his distance, even as he neared, apparently not all that anxious to harm them, and kept his voice even and kind as he spoke. Willing to believe - hoping desperately, actually - that he was a nice enough guy, even though they were busting in on his party, Dwayne dared, “we weren’t gonna steal anything, mister. We just...”
“Wanted a look inside?”
Mario nodded eagerly, thinking the man understood. Dwayne held back, knowing that even if he understood, it didn’t necessarily mean that he approved. What would his dad do, if some punks just walked in their house, ‘cos they ‘wanted a look?’ Dwayne spoke again, quickly. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? It was stupid. We didn’t know you had kids here, and a party an’ all.”
That was a mistake. The man now turned his gaze, which before was looking them all over, to focus squarely on him, like he was trying to read his mind. Could they read minds? Dwayne suddenly worried. Whether he could or not, the man was definitely sizing him up, looking at him with a curious, intent, oddly familiar gaze. Like he really could see through him...
...but then he raised an eyebrow, still not dropping his gaze. And chuckled.
“Well, since you’re here ... why don’t you go on in and get something to eat? We have trick or treating set up around the place for the younger kids, but we have some cookies and brownies out there, too, and some sandwiches, I think...”
“And apple cider,” a new voice chimed in, “or something that’s supposed to pass as apple cider. Maybe it’s just apple juice.”
As he spoke, the second man sided up to the first, eliciting a look of surprise. With a sudden, wide grin, as if there were some private joke between them, the first man laughed, “Alec - so you’re joining us for Halloween after all?”
‘Alec’ rolled his eyes and sighed, long suffering. “And guess who just got pressed into ‘security’ duty on top of it?”
The first just chucked again, and turned back to the trio. “Alec here will give you a tour, if you like, answer any questions you might have - or just get you over there for the food, if you’re hungry. This isn’t an official Halloween party, really, just the trick or treating, but a few of the kids more your age were getting some costumes together, too, I think. You’re welcome to hang out for a while - if you don’t think your parents would mind.”
“My mom won’t,” Dwayne blurted, not fully sure why. His voice had a ring of pride to it, and he suddenly found himself wanting these two men to know he didn’t think about transgenics the way all the others in town did.
Well. Not completely...
The first man was looking at him again with his eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing him curiously; the second just rolled his eyes again, shrugging off his comment. “Well, c’mon - you guys hungry?”
The boys didn’t react, just continuing to stare at the men, frozen in place by the completely unexpected events in finding not one but two completely normal, apparently pretty regular guys holed up in the squalid surroundings of Terminal City.
“Well? Hello? You guys statutes for Halloween, or what?” Alec tried, waving his hand across their unbroken stares.
“It’s okay, guys,” the first one’s gaze softened from his intense scrutiny and took all three in again now, not just Dwayne. “Go ahead, if you like - or not; you can just leave if you’d rather.” He watched them as finally, first Dwayne, then Mario, turned to catch each other’s eyes, Petey’s frightened eyes joining the others and relaxing a little as he saw the older boys seem to reach an agreement. Dwayne heard another soft chuckle from the first man and as Dwayne turned back to him, he saw the man moving away, toward the tables of food. “Try the cupcakes - they’re really good,” he called back to them, over his shoulder.
Dwayne now stood staring at his back, scrutinizing him the way he himself been appraised by the intense green eyes, wondering why he thought the man could read his thoughts - and why he looked so familiar.
“Well, come on, either you’re staying or going, makes no difference to me, but I’m hungry and am gonna get something to eat.” Alec started off toward the table too, not far behind the first man, who once again laughed out loud at Alec’s words, an easy, comfortable sound.
“Alec, you’re always hungry.”
“Your point?” Alec heard the scramble of feet behind him and grinned, in spite of himself, as the knot of boys finally moved to follow him. As they made their way to the table, Alec registered the squeals of delight from the group of trick or treaters and heard the pleased reaction of the adults around them. Gotta hand it to Logan, his idea to let the kids try out Halloween wasn’t half bad. Don’t know about letting in these kids, but they don’t seem to be much of a threat. Alec crossed over to the desk set up like a buffet table and grabbed a sandwich, casually watching his clutch of still-nervous kids coming up behind him. “Help yourselves.”
They did. And other than the smallest one dropping his cookie in shock when Joshua came over to say hello, and all three of them grinning in awe when they happened to see Syl leap effortlessly from the first floor entry to the third floor landing, they seemed to take it in stride, even if they were still wide-eyed and silent. They had no problem attacking Logan’s cookies and the cupcakes he’d brought from his neighbor, even when Dix and Mole wandered by, even when Joshua howled in delight - literally - when Max handed him a box of Little Debbies, decorated with pumpkins and bats for Halloween...
Alec looked over to see Logan watching the boys from across the room, obviously pleased with their response. He had to hand it to Logan, Alec again conceded to himself - he really did have good instincts. “C’mon, you guys, grab another couple cookies. You wanted a tour, didn’t you?”
This time the response was still a silent one, but one of grins and eager, shining expressions. Logan smiled wider, and Alec snorted softly to himself. If all this works - first Halloween, then letting in these kids - what next? The boys preoccupied with cookies, Alec took the moment to offer Logan an exaggerated expression of long-suffering, to Logan’s obvious amusement. He’s so gonna try to turn this into some cultural exchange program...
Logan felt his grin lingering even after the boys disappeared from view, trailing along behind Alec, pleased that even this little spark of Transgenic-Ordinary detente seemed to be a success. First one of them, then a few... maybe with time, there really can be more of a connection, he mused...
“So your trick or treating plan worked out pretty well,” Max ambled up, her mouth curved up in a sly smile for him. “Yet another successful Eyes Only mission?”
He smirked at the reference, watching another handful of residents siding up to the table of food, chatting, indulging in good-natured teasing. “Food always helps.”
“Especially yours. Good cookies,” she waggled the remaining half at him before taking another bite. The shrieks of laughter once again from the trick or treaters drew Max’s attention to them, and her expression softened a little. “Aren’t they cute?” she murmured softly, adding, her tone now sincere, “Logan - this was a great idea you had. Everyone’s having a good time, but even if it had been only for those kids - it’s been such a good night for them.” She glanced back up at him. “You know this whole thing barely came off. Everybody thought this was about as whack an idea they’d heard. With the big thing in Seattle this year going as a transgenic for Halloween - not very popular around here - what do you do but announce we have to have Halloween here, too. You were nearly kicked to the curb on that one.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, softly.
“No, I mean, really; there was talk...”
“I know.” He saw her unbelieving look and challenged, “what, you think just because I’m not revved up I don’t catch the obvious? Remember me, investigative journalist? Eyes Only?” he ribbed her gently, then added, “I was glad you stood up for me, though.” At her look, he smiled, “yeah, I know about that, too.”
“Maybe I could’ve stood up sooner. Or louder.”
“You kept me from the curb.”
His eyebrows lifted in an expression of offered hope, and this time she laughed softly. “Well, your stock went up a lot, with all this tonight. And it was the kind of break everyone needed.” Feeling herself relax a little with the evening, Max teased, “I think you may even be nominated for Program Chair, next counsel meeting...”
He smirked again at that, but just as quickly he seemed to see something out across the room and he straightened, nodding to someone out across the way. “Sorry, Max, gotta go - I’m up.”
“You’re...?”
“I’m next on the trick or treat list. Computer room,” he grinned, clearly waiting for her. “Wanna come?”
“That depends,” she challenged, moving alongside of him, despite her words. “Whatcha got?”
“Home-made popcorn balls and store-bought candy bars. Something for everyone.” He led her up the back stairs to his computer room, arriving there only moments before the trick or treaters did.
“Trick or treat!” came the now well-rehearsed chorus. And the giggles.
And Max watched as Logan spoke to every child, complimented every costume, let each child take their heart’s delight from his big bowl of treats and offered the rest to the older kids and adults now trailing along with the official trick or treaters. He was having a good time, she could see, but it was nothing to the joy in the children’s faces, in the happiness she saw in the rest of the transgenic faces passing by and thanking Logan for the goodies he was handing out.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Logan glancing over his shoulder toward her, calling to her. “Hey Max - you better come grab something if you want it. Supplies are dwindling fast...”
She smiled gently, still warmed by the scene, and came over toward the door where he stood, nodding to the faces parading by for their treats. “This is the best treat of all, y’know,” she offered to him, “having you here, with all of us. Having the little ones see that the world isn’t just either us or the enemy. Having you here ... with me.”
He turned at that, looking at her more fully, appreciating her words, pleased at her thoughts. “No where else I’d rather be,” he said simply. “No one else I’d rather be with.”
With a smile, she quoted his words back to him. “‘Yeah, I know about that, too,’” she teased warmly. “...and it happens to be mutual.” His wide beam in response lit up the room.
“Look, Max,” one of the littlest girls piped up, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m ‘posed to be you.”
With a grin of recognition, Max knelt down by the little figure still soft and rounded with a toddler’s tummy, dressed head to toe in a ‘cat suit’ someone had managed for her, her usually blonde locks covered in a credible black yarn wig they must have spent hours making. The little girl struck a defensive, warrior-like pose, and Max nodded her approval.
“You’re me, alright,” she laughed. “So you must be hungry. Did you get some of Logan’s goodies?” At the little girl’s nod, Max smiled and stood again. “Me, too.” She reached in for a popcorn ball and watched the child run off with the others. Watching after them, she sighed. “You do good work, Logan.”
“Not as good as you, apparently. No one has dressed up as me yet.”
“Oh, it's early yet,” she turned back to him and laughed, imagining how easy his iconic hair and glasses would be to mimic. She softened again and tried, once more, to express her thanks. “Logan - thank you. For everyone out there - and from me, too.”
He stood silently for a moment, the crowd now past them and moving on to the next “door” on their route, and finally nodded. “I’m glad it worked out. I really didn’t want to be kicked to the curb.”
She looked at him, long, so much history between them, so much ahead, so little time lately for them to have to themselves, uninterrupted. “You know I’d never let them do that, right?”
“Maybe not ... but I’d rather not give them an excuse to try.” His lips quirked up at the corner, his wry, slow smile pulling her in.
“Hey Max! Logan!” Voices from below called to them. Max suddenly looked tired, and a little sad, but only for a moment. She pulled herself together and turned back to him.
“All the time in the world ... remember?” She asked. Her eyes glittered with a little more moisture than before.
“Never out of my thoughts,” he promised. “Happy Halloween, Max ... I hope we get all the holidays together, one way or the other.”
“We will,” she promised, “one way or the other.” And slowly, the two of them moved to head out toward the others...
My prompt was for a general fic, “Trick or treating in Terminal City!” Since it was for general fic, I decided to add my own challenge to write a fic that the reader could make into M/L, M/A or no ship, could add the (damnable) virus or pretend it never happened. Until I let my own leanings slip a bit in the end, I think I managed. Of course, it probably sucked the life out of it, too.
Thanks to SV/ITL for the clever Ficathon set-up!
Detente
I.
This time of night, in this part of town, it was always dark ... dank. Eerie. Intimidating. Even on Halloween.
Especially on Halloween...
Dwayne was the oldest and even if this wasn’t his idea, he had to go along and show the others he wasn’t afraid. Of course, it sounded a lot better five blocks earlier, with more lights and traffic around them, even if half the traffic was cops who might bust them for being out after curfew, and even if the lights were increasingly seedy bars, with drunks and others who probably be less safe to be around than whomever might be lurking in these shadows...
He knew their pace had slowed as they got closer, and wondered if one of the others would call chicken first. They were all pretty stubborn, he knew. He tried to look over at Mario, but couldn’t see his face. He could see Petey, though, and he looked as if he was ready to cry. Dwayne found it a bit comforting, even if Petey was a lot younger than he was. At least I won’t be the first one, he thought...
Mario, the ‘thinker’ of the outfit, piped up with another of his dumb questions. “Are you sure we can get in?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Dwayne said, without hesitation. “They get in, don’t they?”
“They have magical powers or something. Some of them just fly in,” Mario reasoned.
“My dad said they’re like ghosts; they can walk through the fence. Walls, too.” Petey’s voice shook slightly as spoke.
“My teacher said the same thing.” Mario agreed.
“Aw, that’s crap,” Dwayne announced. “My mom says even the ones that look the craziest can’t fly or walk through walls. Some of ‘em can’t even talk.” Dwayne’s information base was a little more solid than the others’, even if they pretended it wasn’t, because his mother worked as a clerk at central booking and had actually seen some of them, with her own eyes. Dwayne knew the others listened to what he’d learned about them from her, and knew that his mom saw a lot more than did most other people, who shot off their mouths anyway without knowing what they were talking about. In fact, it was what she’d said a few days ago that kept him moving toward Terminal City now, a combination of the curiosity she’d unwittingly planted in him and her sense that the transgenics were far less scary than the people on TV wanted everyone to think.
But when the trio rounded that last corner and came face to face with the west side of the block, the dirty, twisted barbed wire and riot fencing merely a deeper shade of black in the darkened place - all three stopped short, staring up at their goal.
Terminal City.
Each shivered.
Terminal City: if the transgenics didn’t get you, the radiation sickness would. If you weren’t flayed alive by the fearsome, evil monsters, you’d be turned into a monster by breathing air so toxic, one breath would give you gills and a tail. If you weren’t immediately turned into a zombie and had your brains sucked out....
A dog barked. All three jumped at least a foot.
Dwayne swallowed, hard, and tried again to remember all his mother had said, when she thought he was already in bed asleep and wouldn’t hear, especially when she was talking with his skeptical dad about one of the recent transgenic escapees on the news that evening. “Roy, he was just a child! He was only twelve or so, and he looked so scared! They treated him as if he was a rabid dog, and the things they said ... they thought he didn’t understand what they were saying and he tried to act like he didn’t. Maybe they teach them to pretend...”
“Or maybe he didn’t understand,” his father had tried.
“He understood. I watched him. He knew. He was so frightened ... and they just talked about him like he was a disease.” His mother’s voice had carried her pain for what she’d seen. “When everyone else left, I...” She had almost been afraid to confess her actions to his dad, and they discussed everything. Dwayne had really listened hard, after that... “I still had my apple, from lunch, and...” Another pause. “I gave it to him. He just looked at me, for the longest time, like he was afraid I would poison him or something. But I told him it was okay, and that he looked hungry, and that I had a boy not much older than he was...” There were tears in his mother’s voice now. “He looked me in the eye ... and said thank you. He ate it then, and smiled, and thanked me again.” She paused, then added, fiercely, “and I’m glad he escaped.”
His father had spoken so low Dwayne could barely hear. “Bonnie, you ... we need your job too, you know that! If you did anything ...”
There was another pause. Finally, his mother said softly, “I gave a scared, hungry kid an apple, Roy. No one else knew. But at least maybe he was a little less hungry. And a little less scared.”
Dwayne looked at the other two and suddenly felt a surge of bravery. “C’mon you guys. There’s a place down this way where we can get under the fence.”
II.
“Oh, c’mon, Mole, look at ‘em! They’re just kids..”
Mole grunted forcefully as he watched the trio edging their way along the abandoned buildings and alleyways of Terminal City, having breached the first perimeter, coming uncomfortably close to the building where they now stood. Kids or no, they were headed to TC’s main base, with all living and primary security arrangements in one, defendable location. “Just like all those other ‘kids’ in the mobs of Ordinaries out there, throwing Molotov cocktails and shooting off a smuggled gun or two ... just as ignorant as their fathers with even less impulse control...”
Max looked up from the floor plan she’d been studying and over to the row of monitors where Mole and Logan stood, the console now finally up and working with the cameras they’d managed to install around both Terminal City’s perimeter and the building where they now debated this new “threat” picked up by their surveillance teams. She smiled softly, leaving this one to the pair.
“Or maybe they’re just short of that ...” Logan pointed to the grainy image on the monitor and said, “the oldest is, what, maybe thirteen, fourteen? These other two - I bet that one’s not even ten yet.” He glanced up at the unyielding expression next to him and, knowing Mole wouldn’t have gone through this rite of passage himself - and wasn’t much in the mood to hear again tonight how much they had all missed, growing up in Manticore - tried, “Mole, it’s Halloween. Kids all over the country are goading each other to get up the nerve to sneak into the neighborhood ‘haunted’ house, maybe the cemetery across town ... who knows why they do, but they do, and probably have been doing it for a couple centuries. With all the half-truths and scare tactics the screamer media have been putting out there about this place - it’s a natural, don’t you think? These boys are just curious as hell, trying to show each other they’re brave, doing something their parents would never let them do, sneaking into a place everyone is saying is the most dangerous place on the planet.” He saw that Mole looked unconvinced, but he was still listening. Logan tipped his head toward the big man and suggested, “think about it - you know what makes this really great? Cemeteries and ‘haunted’ houses - they seem scary, but kids have to know, deep down, that they’re not all that dangerous, or they’d stay away. Maybe these kids see through all the crap on TV and know that Terminal City can’t be as bad as they say.” He felt a lopsided smile grow as he considered it, amused by his idea the more he thought about it. “Just think what will happen if they come in and see us for what we are. Maybe they’d put that word out, too. Unwitting cultural ambassadors...” Logan mused.
“Yeah, and what if they don’t? What if they come in, leave and then tell everyone how they were kidnaped or attacked ...”
“Would that be so different than the crackpots who are already saying those things, even though they never stepped one foot inside the perimeter? Mole, they’re just kids. Why not let them in, let them look around and get some candy and see we’re just another community trying to get by? At least they seem to want to come in. No one else does.”
“...other than the ones looking to come in and wipe us all out.”
“Okay, granted. But ...” Logan looked back to the screen, meaningfully. “These guys don’t exactly look as if they’re armed with anything. I’ll bet it wasn’t even planned. It’s probably a dare that was hatched about five minutes ago.” Logan thought the other man might actually be relenting. “We can get a couple of the others to stick really close and if there’s any sign of a problem...”
“Like wrecking the night for the kids here? Shouldn’t they be our first priority, if we’re gonna have Halloween for them here?” Mole hadn’t been crazy about the Halloween thing from the start, and this just made it even worse, as far as he was concerned. Just asking for trouble...
“Absolutely. They hassle anyone, they’re out.”
For the first time in the discussion, Logan furtively glanced over at Max, whom he could see had followed the entire debate with amusement. Her eyes now sparkled with a subtle grin, seeing that Logan was about to get his way. She pushed off the desk where she’d been leaning to cross near the pair. “Why don’t I go tell the guards to let ‘em through, if they try coming inside?” she asked, looking up to the still skeptical Mole. He wavered only the other moment.
“Whatever,” he grunted. “Just get someone - an X-5, maybe, someone who looks like them - to keep an eye on ‘em.”
She nodded and slipped out of the room. Logan turned to Mole and, not sure if it was really appropriate, still felt the need, and said softly, “thanks.”
Another grunt. “For what? Breaching security? Playing at this Halloween crap you Ordinaries seem to like so much?”
Logan shook his head. “No ... for giving it a shot. For trusting that maybe these kids are just ... being kids.”
Mole looked at the Ordinary, appraising him, grudgingly appreciating yet again that this one could look back at him without nervousness, without averting his eyes every few seconds from his reptilian features ... willing now after weeks of dealing with him, day after day, to believe that Cale was there not only for Max but for them all, offering what he could to help them assimilate into the world into which they’d all been thrown. He just shook his head. “I think I’m gonna dress up as an Ordinary for Halloween,” he said levelly, coolly, sounding so much as if he was just planning another Terminal City defense plan that the man before him reacted with a surprised blink, clearly thinking he’d heard wrong. “Doubt it’ll get me much candy here, though. Mostly they’ll think I’m just some do-gooder, Pollyanna sap.”
By then Mole was grinning - actually grinning, his ever-present cigar stuck up at a rakish angle, and Logan even chuckled. “Don’t sell it short. Trick or treating is sort of a hopeful act, isn’t it? Just going up to someone, asking for some little treat, something special, and believing that they might actually give you something?”
Mole paused again, still bothered by the competing reactions he’d always had about Halloween, ever since he’d heard about it, and his ambivalence about Terminal City’s plans for bringing it to his doorstep tonight. His grin faded, and he looked haunted as he let his thoughts play over the implications. “You know, some of ‘em are out there tonight, some of the younger ones. They heard all the bullshit about Ordinaries dressing up like us out there, using us as costumes ... they decided that they’d pass out there, tonight, at least, no one the wiser that they’re the deal thing.” Mole finally admitted his frustration. “Isn’t that just giving in, admitting that we’re nothing more than the freaks they say we are? I’d never give them the satisfaction,” he asserted, more defensively than he’d intended.
Logan nodded, quiet, for the moment, as he considered not only the man’s words, but the fact that Mole seemed to finally be opening up to him, revealing he had some emotions in there, too, after all. With a shrug, Logan said, “in an odd way - maybe that will pay off, too, in the long run ... more visibility, even if not the most flattering, leads to more familiarity? It’s all still fairly new for a lot of people out there that you even exist...”
“How damn long is it gonna take for them to get over it that we’re here?” Mole griped, his anger suddenly front and center again.
“Generations? How long did it take us to ‘get over’ the idea that people come in all colors ... and both genders?” Logan mused. “The effects of man’s xenophobia are played out lifetimes after they should have been gone. We always come further in theory and in legal principle than we do in practice.” He sighed, and looked up again to the monitors as they tracked the trio, now sliding into their building where they must have seen light and felt warmth, just as if no one was there to stop them. “Maybe with kids like these - if they see us all here, just another little community playing at Halloween ... we can help make inroads, one heart and one mind at a time.”
With another look to his stoic companion, then at the monitor, Logan turned to leave the small communications center and make his way to where ‘his’ guests would be arriving. Mole watched him go with another snort. Cale was right, of course ... Mole had learned that Logan Cale usually didn’t offer his opinion without due consideration or information to back it up. He hated to admit it, hated the implications, but they were what they were.
Still. Before Manticore went down, before Terminal City, Mole would have bet the bank there were no Ordinaries out there at all who would ever see him or his kind as anything but government issue equipment, maybe on par with a well-trained, bomb-sniffing dog. Yet Logan Cale considered each of them human, and in his quiet, stubborn way, set about getting finding ways to help them acclimate to the outside world - offering them paths to equality. Even when they goaded him, derided him, called him an outsider, an Ordinary ... He was stubborn, as stubborn as anyone Mole had ever known.
And it was thanks to Logan Cale that he was finally being given a chance to learn how to read.
Nobody had ever offered before. Nobody had convinced him he should ... or could ... and nobody had ever worked at him so long and so irritatingly that he had given in, just to get the stubborn man off his back. He tweaked the dial marked ‘west entry’ and tried to convince himself he didn’t need to read the label to know what was in the picture.
Didn’t need to ... but could, now. Cale was about as stubborn as they came.
Mole snorted away the sentimental thoughts as he looked over at the second monitor, now picking up the trio as they were confronted - Mole snorted again, some confrontation - by Cale. As long as he was right and these were just kids, trying on tough guy for size ... yeah. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
III.
Being oldest sucked, because they expected him to take the lead, going in - or at least, not hide behind them. Dwayne made sure that Mario, at least, was pretty well shoulder to shoulder with him, even if Petey hung back a step.
They’d come about two blocks into the place, toward dead center where the transgenics were supposed to all be hiding, and it had been a tomb: no sign of any living creature, no sound, no movement. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath, and any small gust of wind or skitter of a dead leaf echoed like thunder. It was even creepier than Dwayne had thought it would be, so silent...
“Are they all dead?” Petey finally asked in a hushed, fearful tone.
“No, you dope, they’re probably all watchin’ you - and waiting to pounce.” Oddly enough, the quiet and apparent emptiness had suddenly filled Mario with enough relief that it renewed his bravado, and he turned on the younger boy with a gloating leer. “Probably trying to decide what kind of dessert to have with Petey stew...”
“Shut up,” Dwayne hissed, completely unconvinced they were alone. “They’re not dead, Petey,” he added.
“They’re not here,” Mario whispered back, “watch...” He stopped walking and drew a deep breath, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hey you frea....”
“Shut up!” Dwayne clapped his hand over Mario’s mouth, pulling him to the side of the darkened alley and flattening them both against the wall. “Are you crazy?” Petey skittered along to huddle beside them.
“They’re not here, man. They bugged out...”
“Bull.” Dwayne could almost feel the transgenics’ eyes on him, so certain he was that they were still there... but began feeling a little more relaxed that even now, with Mario’s big mouth, they hadn’t come out to hassle them. Leaving them alone? Really gone - or dead - after all? Maybe as afraid of the three of them as he was of them? Whatever it was, Dwayne started to think they might not be all that much of a threat, even on their own turf. Just what his mom had said, after all...
“C’mon,” he ordered. “And keep you mouth shut, Mario, or I’ll shut it myself.” They walked through the alley in silence and into the next block, still surrounded by a tomb-like quiet ... until they came to the block’s end ...
A large, windowed warehouse loomed ahead. Light spilled subtly out of upper, hastily painted-over upper panes and through cracks in the boards along those on the lower level. There was a faint scent of cooking food, like chicken, maybe ... and once or twice, even... voices...
Three pairs of eyes grew round and wide.
“Let’s go!” Mario yelped, suddenly, ready to run the other way.
“C’mon...” Dwayne heard himself say, hunkering lower, ready to move - but toward the building, not away. “Let’s go inside...”
“Oh, I’m crazy?” Mario insisted, “and now you’re the one who wants to go inside?”
But Dwayne moved closer to the open doorway and, as he did, he soon heard Petey and Mario, with shallow nervous breaths and whispering between the two, come up behind him. Childish laughter from inside met his ears again; adult laughter came soon behind, with loving calls and teasing mixed in. Sounds like any other place, Dwayne breathed to himself. Sounds like a party...
He was barely aware of the others now as he pushed his way into the large warehouse, drawn to the lights in the middle of the large, open area set up with tables and chairs in various places, a desk or two, sort of like a lobby for a school or a hotel or a big, public meeting place...
“Trick or treat!” A chorus of young voices called out from across the room and more giggles met his ears, more adult voices, and chorus of “thank you!”’s took Dwayne fully by surprise. Kids trick or treating in Terminal City?
Transgenic kids?
He stepped in a way further, craning on tip-toe to peer over the crates lined up along near the entry, to see nearly a dozen small kids, looking to be between maybe four and seven years old, a mix of small shapes wrapped in shiny, glittery fabric or painted in colorful, clown-like make-up or feathery, snowy wings. Just ... kids. Like any kids, at Halloween - running to the next “door” for candy, chorusing for treats, wound up in the moment...
“Hey there.”
Dwayne’s heart leapt into his throat as he spun, with the others, to see that one of them had sneaked up behind them, standing between them and the exit. This one was a very ordinary, normal-looking man, tall and slender, with amused, curious eyes twinkling behind metal-framed glasses.
“Get lost trick or treating?” He took a few steps toward them, an ominous, mechanical whirring coming from him as he did, resulting in the three boys unconsciously huddling closer together. “I suspect you didn’t think you were in Sector Nine - that’s where the best candy usually is.”
Dwayne saw that the guy was keeping his distance, even as he neared, apparently not all that anxious to harm them, and kept his voice even and kind as he spoke. Willing to believe - hoping desperately, actually - that he was a nice enough guy, even though they were busting in on his party, Dwayne dared, “we weren’t gonna steal anything, mister. We just...”
“Wanted a look inside?”
Mario nodded eagerly, thinking the man understood. Dwayne held back, knowing that even if he understood, it didn’t necessarily mean that he approved. What would his dad do, if some punks just walked in their house, ‘cos they ‘wanted a look?’ Dwayne spoke again, quickly. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? It was stupid. We didn’t know you had kids here, and a party an’ all.”
That was a mistake. The man now turned his gaze, which before was looking them all over, to focus squarely on him, like he was trying to read his mind. Could they read minds? Dwayne suddenly worried. Whether he could or not, the man was definitely sizing him up, looking at him with a curious, intent, oddly familiar gaze. Like he really could see through him...
...but then he raised an eyebrow, still not dropping his gaze. And chuckled.
“Well, since you’re here ... why don’t you go on in and get something to eat? We have trick or treating set up around the place for the younger kids, but we have some cookies and brownies out there, too, and some sandwiches, I think...”
“And apple cider,” a new voice chimed in, “or something that’s supposed to pass as apple cider. Maybe it’s just apple juice.”
As he spoke, the second man sided up to the first, eliciting a look of surprise. With a sudden, wide grin, as if there were some private joke between them, the first man laughed, “Alec - so you’re joining us for Halloween after all?”
‘Alec’ rolled his eyes and sighed, long suffering. “And guess who just got pressed into ‘security’ duty on top of it?”
The first just chucked again, and turned back to the trio. “Alec here will give you a tour, if you like, answer any questions you might have - or just get you over there for the food, if you’re hungry. This isn’t an official Halloween party, really, just the trick or treating, but a few of the kids more your age were getting some costumes together, too, I think. You’re welcome to hang out for a while - if you don’t think your parents would mind.”
“My mom won’t,” Dwayne blurted, not fully sure why. His voice had a ring of pride to it, and he suddenly found himself wanting these two men to know he didn’t think about transgenics the way all the others in town did.
Well. Not completely...
The first man was looking at him again with his eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing him curiously; the second just rolled his eyes again, shrugging off his comment. “Well, c’mon - you guys hungry?”
The boys didn’t react, just continuing to stare at the men, frozen in place by the completely unexpected events in finding not one but two completely normal, apparently pretty regular guys holed up in the squalid surroundings of Terminal City.
“Well? Hello? You guys statutes for Halloween, or what?” Alec tried, waving his hand across their unbroken stares.
“It’s okay, guys,” the first one’s gaze softened from his intense scrutiny and took all three in again now, not just Dwayne. “Go ahead, if you like - or not; you can just leave if you’d rather.” He watched them as finally, first Dwayne, then Mario, turned to catch each other’s eyes, Petey’s frightened eyes joining the others and relaxing a little as he saw the older boys seem to reach an agreement. Dwayne heard another soft chuckle from the first man and as Dwayne turned back to him, he saw the man moving away, toward the tables of food. “Try the cupcakes - they’re really good,” he called back to them, over his shoulder.
Dwayne now stood staring at his back, scrutinizing him the way he himself been appraised by the intense green eyes, wondering why he thought the man could read his thoughts - and why he looked so familiar.
“Well, come on, either you’re staying or going, makes no difference to me, but I’m hungry and am gonna get something to eat.” Alec started off toward the table too, not far behind the first man, who once again laughed out loud at Alec’s words, an easy, comfortable sound.
“Alec, you’re always hungry.”
“Your point?” Alec heard the scramble of feet behind him and grinned, in spite of himself, as the knot of boys finally moved to follow him. As they made their way to the table, Alec registered the squeals of delight from the group of trick or treaters and heard the pleased reaction of the adults around them. Gotta hand it to Logan, his idea to let the kids try out Halloween wasn’t half bad. Don’t know about letting in these kids, but they don’t seem to be much of a threat. Alec crossed over to the desk set up like a buffet table and grabbed a sandwich, casually watching his clutch of still-nervous kids coming up behind him. “Help yourselves.”
They did. And other than the smallest one dropping his cookie in shock when Joshua came over to say hello, and all three of them grinning in awe when they happened to see Syl leap effortlessly from the first floor entry to the third floor landing, they seemed to take it in stride, even if they were still wide-eyed and silent. They had no problem attacking Logan’s cookies and the cupcakes he’d brought from his neighbor, even when Dix and Mole wandered by, even when Joshua howled in delight - literally - when Max handed him a box of Little Debbies, decorated with pumpkins and bats for Halloween...
Alec looked over to see Logan watching the boys from across the room, obviously pleased with their response. He had to hand it to Logan, Alec again conceded to himself - he really did have good instincts. “C’mon, you guys, grab another couple cookies. You wanted a tour, didn’t you?”
This time the response was still a silent one, but one of grins and eager, shining expressions. Logan smiled wider, and Alec snorted softly to himself. If all this works - first Halloween, then letting in these kids - what next? The boys preoccupied with cookies, Alec took the moment to offer Logan an exaggerated expression of long-suffering, to Logan’s obvious amusement. He’s so gonna try to turn this into some cultural exchange program...
Logan felt his grin lingering even after the boys disappeared from view, trailing along behind Alec, pleased that even this little spark of Transgenic-Ordinary detente seemed to be a success. First one of them, then a few... maybe with time, there really can be more of a connection, he mused...
“So your trick or treating plan worked out pretty well,” Max ambled up, her mouth curved up in a sly smile for him. “Yet another successful Eyes Only mission?”
He smirked at the reference, watching another handful of residents siding up to the table of food, chatting, indulging in good-natured teasing. “Food always helps.”
“Especially yours. Good cookies,” she waggled the remaining half at him before taking another bite. The shrieks of laughter once again from the trick or treaters drew Max’s attention to them, and her expression softened a little. “Aren’t they cute?” she murmured softly, adding, her tone now sincere, “Logan - this was a great idea you had. Everyone’s having a good time, but even if it had been only for those kids - it’s been such a good night for them.” She glanced back up at him. “You know this whole thing barely came off. Everybody thought this was about as whack an idea they’d heard. With the big thing in Seattle this year going as a transgenic for Halloween - not very popular around here - what do you do but announce we have to have Halloween here, too. You were nearly kicked to the curb on that one.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, softly.
“No, I mean, really; there was talk...”
“I know.” He saw her unbelieving look and challenged, “what, you think just because I’m not revved up I don’t catch the obvious? Remember me, investigative journalist? Eyes Only?” he ribbed her gently, then added, “I was glad you stood up for me, though.” At her look, he smiled, “yeah, I know about that, too.”
“Maybe I could’ve stood up sooner. Or louder.”
“You kept me from the curb.”
His eyebrows lifted in an expression of offered hope, and this time she laughed softly. “Well, your stock went up a lot, with all this tonight. And it was the kind of break everyone needed.” Feeling herself relax a little with the evening, Max teased, “I think you may even be nominated for Program Chair, next counsel meeting...”
He smirked again at that, but just as quickly he seemed to see something out across the room and he straightened, nodding to someone out across the way. “Sorry, Max, gotta go - I’m up.”
“You’re...?”
“I’m next on the trick or treat list. Computer room,” he grinned, clearly waiting for her. “Wanna come?”
“That depends,” she challenged, moving alongside of him, despite her words. “Whatcha got?”
“Home-made popcorn balls and store-bought candy bars. Something for everyone.” He led her up the back stairs to his computer room, arriving there only moments before the trick or treaters did.
“Trick or treat!” came the now well-rehearsed chorus. And the giggles.
And Max watched as Logan spoke to every child, complimented every costume, let each child take their heart’s delight from his big bowl of treats and offered the rest to the older kids and adults now trailing along with the official trick or treaters. He was having a good time, she could see, but it was nothing to the joy in the children’s faces, in the happiness she saw in the rest of the transgenic faces passing by and thanking Logan for the goodies he was handing out.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Logan glancing over his shoulder toward her, calling to her. “Hey Max - you better come grab something if you want it. Supplies are dwindling fast...”
She smiled gently, still warmed by the scene, and came over toward the door where he stood, nodding to the faces parading by for their treats. “This is the best treat of all, y’know,” she offered to him, “having you here, with all of us. Having the little ones see that the world isn’t just either us or the enemy. Having you here ... with me.”
He turned at that, looking at her more fully, appreciating her words, pleased at her thoughts. “No where else I’d rather be,” he said simply. “No one else I’d rather be with.”
With a smile, she quoted his words back to him. “‘Yeah, I know about that, too,’” she teased warmly. “...and it happens to be mutual.” His wide beam in response lit up the room.
“Look, Max,” one of the littlest girls piped up, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m ‘posed to be you.”
With a grin of recognition, Max knelt down by the little figure still soft and rounded with a toddler’s tummy, dressed head to toe in a ‘cat suit’ someone had managed for her, her usually blonde locks covered in a credible black yarn wig they must have spent hours making. The little girl struck a defensive, warrior-like pose, and Max nodded her approval.
“You’re me, alright,” she laughed. “So you must be hungry. Did you get some of Logan’s goodies?” At the little girl’s nod, Max smiled and stood again. “Me, too.” She reached in for a popcorn ball and watched the child run off with the others. Watching after them, she sighed. “You do good work, Logan.”
“Not as good as you, apparently. No one has dressed up as me yet.”
“Oh, it's early yet,” she turned back to him and laughed, imagining how easy his iconic hair and glasses would be to mimic. She softened again and tried, once more, to express her thanks. “Logan - thank you. For everyone out there - and from me, too.”
He stood silently for a moment, the crowd now past them and moving on to the next “door” on their route, and finally nodded. “I’m glad it worked out. I really didn’t want to be kicked to the curb.”
She looked at him, long, so much history between them, so much ahead, so little time lately for them to have to themselves, uninterrupted. “You know I’d never let them do that, right?”
“Maybe not ... but I’d rather not give them an excuse to try.” His lips quirked up at the corner, his wry, slow smile pulling her in.
“Hey Max! Logan!” Voices from below called to them. Max suddenly looked tired, and a little sad, but only for a moment. She pulled herself together and turned back to him.
“All the time in the world ... remember?” She asked. Her eyes glittered with a little more moisture than before.
“Never out of my thoughts,” he promised. “Happy Halloween, Max ... I hope we get all the holidays together, one way or the other.”
“We will,” she promised, “one way or the other.” And slowly, the two of them moved to head out toward the others...