By: Starlight
Rating: PG-13 for some strong language and a little suggestion on my part
**I don't own any rights to Dark Angel or characters therein...the character of Kristy Herrald is mine, and I claim this as my own original heal-Logan idea because I put a lot of research into it...I actually shortened this quite a bit by leaving out a lot of the techo-crud**
Kristy Herrald fastidiously smoothed down the skirt of her navy blue business dress. She had to make a good impression. As one of the only women in her field, her colleagues expected more of her. She often got the feeling that in order to impress them she would have to create her own damn super-human. She laughed at the thought and tried to relax.
Her presentation on the medicinal uses of transducation was set to begin in less than fifteen minutes. She had gone over all of her slides the previous day, and her bacteria cultures were in the safe four degree environment of the refrigerator. Everything seemed to be set.
"Okay, Kristy," she murmured to herself. "You know what your doing...just, let everyone else know that you do."
Her chestnut brown hair was coiled on top of her head in an elegant, but decidedly reserved style. Her glasses accented her business woman appearance, framing her sharply observant green eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and made her way to the stage, fighting back the nauseous feeling she always got before a presentation. Once she got talking, the feeling normally went away.
People were straggling in, finding their seats in the auditorium. Most of the audience was composed of men in dark suits. A few women were dispersed through out the crowd, most of whom she knew. One of them, however, Kristy didn't recognize. A pretty woman with dark curly hair who was sitting away from most of the others.
Making a mental note, although not really understanding why, Kristy moved to her podium to look over her notes. She had a lot of information to cover, and not a lot of time to do it in.
Thirteen minutes later, she cleared her throat and began her presentation...
* * *
Max sat in a dark corner of the auditorium, listening intently to Dr. Kristy Herrald talk about recombinant DNA technology. She liked to think of herself as being well versed on the subject, being she owed her very existence to it. This woman, however, was presenting ideas that Max hadn't thought of before and, oddly enough, she was making a lot of sense.
"With the use of transducation, many common medical afflictions could be cured by highly unobtrusive means," Herrald announced, a diagram coming up behind her as she shifted slides. "Using relatively simple processes pioneered in the thirty years preceding the pulse, it is possible to use bacteriophages to introduce whatever genetic factor needed into a person."
Max settled into her chair, taking notes in her head.
The woman went on.
"Aside from the obvious implementation of this gene therapy in cases of genetic diseases," she said, "this kind of treatment could also be highly effective for cancers and even paralysis."
The word paralysis made Max's heart slam painfully against her rib cage. She hung on the woman's every word.
"Since the use of this technology in cancer patients is fairly obvious, I'll talk more about the more nebulous practice of treating paralysis in this manner," she pushed the button in her hand and a new slide came up. This one was a color picture of the spinal column, a nerve cell diagrammed to the side.
"Now," she walked over to the podium, "we all know that nerve damage is permanent. Nerve cells only replicate for a short period of time, after which they enter a type of stasis. For this reason, healing doesn't occur. The most active nerve cells can be found in embryos. Now, if the DNA for nerve replication was spliced out of a strand of embryonic DNA it could theoretically be transferred to a host phage which could be injected into the individual. At which point, the virus would inject the DNA into the nerve cells of the patient, reactivating them. This would cause the patient to, basically, heal on their own."
Max's head was spinning, and she was having a hard time paying attention. The terminology was somewhat difficult to follow, but she got what the woman meant. With one small injection, Logan could regain all of his lost mobility. The idea made it difficult for her to remain sitting still.
"The only problem," Herrald went on, "is that not enough is currently known to identify what sequence of DNA that would cause nerves to grow. However, if this sequence were to be discovered, the possible applications are endless."
The doctor went on about the process, having diagrammed exactly how, given the sequence, she could accomplish all that she said. Max watched, searching the woman's work for errors. She didn't find any.
Less than an hour later, the presentation was over, applause shuddering through the auditorium. Dr. Herrald smiled graciously, obviously proud of her achievements. She had covered a lot of ground in her presentation, but all Max could think of was the world paralysis. It cycled through her head, replaying over and over again.
People started to file out of the room, murmuring to one another about various aspects of the lecture. Max, however, was drawn up to the woman. She tried to keep her composure, but was finding it oddly difficult.
"Did you enjoy the presentation?" Herrald asked, looking up from her notes as Max approached.
"Very much," Max nodded. "You seem to really know your stuff."
"It's my life's work," she replied. "I guess it's kind of weird to devote yourself to viruses and bacteria."
"Yeah," Max laughed politely, thinking to herself that Miss Herrald needed to get out more. At the same time, she was glad that the woman, who smelled dimly of antiseptic, had shut herself up in a lab for most of her life.
"What you said about paralysis," Max cleared her throat, trying not to sound desperate. "Is the nerve growth factor sequence really all you would need?"
Max was built with a number of ideas in mind, mostly the people at Manticore had been concerned with her durability. She herself couldn't be put in Logan's place, her nerve tissue was able to rebuild itself. She found it hard to believe that the key to Logan's recovery could exist in her own genetically revved up body.
"Yes, I think so," she nodded. "Everything past that would be fairly simple."
"Would you mind coming with me?" Max asked, a bright smile crossing her face. "I have a friend I'd like you to meet."
* * *
Logan was having a particularly bad day. His computer, for some unknown reason, was lagging. It was taking him forever to access anything, and it was starting to get on his nerves. At which point, everything else seemed to start sliding down hill.
Muttering all the swear words he could think of, he wheeled himself to the fridge. If it worked for women to drown their woes in ice cream, maybe it would work for him too. Reaching up, he snatched a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough from the first shelf in the freezer.
"All right," he grabbed a spoon and opened the container. "Here we go."
He started eating, pushing spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. The flavor wasn't his favorite -- actually, he didn't eat ice cream very often -- but it did seem to help a little.
"Ow...damn!" he dropped the spoon into the frozen confection as pain tore through his head in one of the most massive ice cream headaches he had ever experienced.
It just didn't seem to be his day.
"Logan!" Max's voice came from the hallway. The pain was ebbing away, and he struggled to find somewhere to put the ice cream. The last thing he needed was for her to see him pigging out like a woman who'd been stood up on an important date.
"Logan, are you here?" Max's voice was a little closer as she stepped into his office searching for him.
He managed to get the ice cream back into the freezer right before she entered the room.
Her dark eyes studied him for a moment as he sat innocently beside the fridge.
"What is it, Max?" he finally asked.
"I brought a woman for you to meet..." she replied, her voice trailing off. He wondered if he looked guilty.
"Really?" he flashed her a charming smile. "Well, let's go meet her then." He started to roll past her, but she put a hand out and stopped him.
"Logan...what's with your hair?" she asked.
He looked at her puzzledly for a moment, then realized with horror what she was talking about. He'd been up most of the night and had taken a nap that day. The hair on one side of his head was crushed flat against his skull, and the other side was his spiky usual.
"Not having the best day?" she finally laughed, digging her fingers into his hair and spiking it for him. The action, as simple as it was, sent shivers through him. She pulled away quickly when she was done, an odd look on her face, and cleared her throat.
"You still look like a half deflated ball," she grinned. "But it's not so bad anymore."
Embarrassed, Logan followed her quietly to the living room. A woman was sitting on his couch, her legs primly crossed. She wore dark navy blue and had a countenance that seemed to say Max had just kidnapped her from an important business meeting. He wondered for a moment if she had.
"Oh," the woman said, a certain realization coming across her face as she spotted Logan. Her gaze then shifted immediately to Max. "Is this your friend?"
"Yeah, don't let the hair scare you," she replied.
The woman stood up and walked over to Logan, extending a hand in greeting.
"I'm Kristy Herrald," she announced.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Herrald," he replied, shaking her hand. "I'm Logan Cale."
"Do you mind if I ask how you...uh..." she faltered.
"Ended up in a wheel chair?" Logan finished. "I got shot."
"Oh..." Kristy's gaze met Max's again, as if they were sharing in some secret that he didn't know about. "You realize that I...that I can't..."
Now he was sure they knew something that he didn't.
"Logan, have you been able to access any of the Manticore technology?" Max asked, interrupting the other woman's stumbling statement. He looked from her, to the new woman, wondering exactly who she was.
"Manticore?" The other woman's green eyes flashed. "This keeps getting better and better."
"Max...what exactly is going on?" Logan finally asked, no longer willing to be the one left in the dark.
"Maybe I should fully introduce myself," Kristy blushed. "I'm a doctor specializing in the use of recombinant DNA for medicinal purposes. Max attended my lecture today."
"Recombinant DNA," Logan looked up at Max, who had said remarkable little. Normally, her voice would intercede after every other statement.
"You mentioned Manticore," the doctor reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small notebook. "If its the same Manticore that I've heard very vague rumors about, then I'm very interested."
"I can give you all the information you want," Max shrugged. "If you remember our deal."
"Right," the green eyed woman chewed the top of her pen. "The deal..."
"Would one of you kindly fill me in?" Logan asked, his head still hurting a little.
"I'm going to heal you, Mr. Cale," the doctor replied, her eyes serious. "Under the condition that one of you can give to me the genomic sequence for nerve regrowth."
"Heal me?" Logan nearly choked on the words.
"They knew it, Logan," Max announced. "If we can access some of their information, we'll have it."
"I haven't been able to access their information," he replied, still digesting everything he had heard.
Max's gaze shot over to the woman, who had now taken a seat once again and was scribbling down something on her notepad.
"How about me?" she suggested. "Would you be able to get it out of my DNA?"
Kristy looked up.
"I'm not following you..." she shook her head.
"Manticore," Max replied, becoming a little uneasy. "I have the sequence in me."
"You do?" Kristy's green eyes widened behind her glasses. "Please tell me you're telling the truth."
"Only one way to know," Max shrugged.
The other woman leapt up from her seat.
"I'd like a sample from you right away," she said excitedly. "One from Mr. Cale as well...oh, and I need some agar, ligase, new phages....this is so exciting!"
"When can you get started?" Logan asked, finally catching on.
"Well, if I can get both of your samples today...get some supplies, I can start tomorrow," she did some math in her head. "I should be able to have an injection ready by the end of the week if I can identify the sequence right away."
"What do you need?" Max asked.
* * *
Kristy Herrald took up residence in Logan's penthouse for the rest of the week. She worked tirelessly, her notebook filled to the last page by the end of the third day. She rushed out and bought a new one, which was filled two days later.
The excitement that radiated from her was contagious. Max brought her all of the supplied she needed, although not admitting as to where she got them.
Logan and Max were eating dinner as Kristy worked in the next room, completely absorbed with her work. She had reset Logan's refrigerator to a temperature of four degrees Fahrenheit and had numerous petrie dishes sitting inside. Logan was careful not to cook with anything very close to them. So, he and Max were eating spaghetti.
"Not your usual culinary miracle..." she commented.
"Just be glad it's not filled with E coli," he replied. She had told him two days before that the E coli bactertia was the easiest to experiment on when he'd asked her what was in the dishes. She told him it was relatively harmless and not to worry, but he'd promised himself he would clean out the fridge when she left.
"You know, Max, if she comes through on this, she might be able to help you with your seizures." He'd been wanting to broach the subject for days, but was unsure how she felt about having her DNA tinkered with. He, for one, didn't mind it so much having seen some of the results it could have. If it could produce anything like Max, it couldn't be all bad.
"Maybe," she shrugged, not looking up at him.
Kristy came bursting into the room then, her hair in disarray and a seringe in her hand.
"I've got it," she announced. "Oh my God, this is amazing! What a rush...whew...it's better than sex, I swear."
Kristy Herrald could make anyone feel normal.
"I've tested it in just about every conceivable way, and it's worked every time," she said in a rush. "Now mind you, this isn't exactly FDA approved, but I think it's going to work!"
"Well...only one way to find out," Logan shrugged.
She rushed over to him as he put down his fork.
"I'm going to inject this right into the area where you got shot," she informed him. Max looked on. "Of course, you can finish eating first."
"No, I think I'm done," he replied. "What exactly is that?"
"This?" she tapped air out of the injection. "It's a virus. Virus reproduce by injecting their DNA into host cells. This virus has the sequence in it that will cause your nerve tissue to regenerate."
"Well, let's do it then," he replied bravely. What he was doing had to be insane, it seemed much to good to be true.
"Okay, we'll lay you down for this," she started toward the living room. Logan and Max followed her, and they helped him onto the couch. He didn't want the help, didn't think he needed the help, but they both insisted. So, rather than looking like an idiot, he accepted it.
"Here we go," Kristy removed the cap from the seringe and lifted up his shirt enough to expose the scar from the initial bullet entry and the surgery. She chose a more benign looking spot than the scar, and leaned over him. Max looked on as she applied some rubbing alcohol to a cotton ball and cleaned the area. Then, she carefully gave him the injection.
"You should start regaining mobility slowly in a day or so," she announced, rubbing the area of the injection with her fingers.
He looked up at Max, seeing a hopeful gleam in her eyes. In a few days, they'd see how good of a doctor Kristy Herrald really was.
* * *
Max watched as Logan wiggled his toes, the delight on his face making her smile. Kristy Herrald had left the previous day, leaving Logan's recovery program to Bling. He was healing quickly, and he worked out everyday to regain coordination. He could walk now, but falteringly.
He looked better than Max could ever remember him being. She'd forgotten how tall he was. Every time he stood up, she couldn't take her eyes off him. It didn't help that he'd become even more charming, gaining back some of the cocky confidence he'd lost.
"So...do you want to dance?" he asked, his grin broad.
"That depends," she replied. "Are you going to feed me, or do I have to sit here all night watching you marvel at your pinkie toe?"
"I'll feed you if you dance with me," he answered.
Max nodded, standing up. He got up at the same time, rising to his full height. Max wondered if agreeing was a mistake.
He picked up the remote to his stereo and pressed a button. There was a short silence, during which time he walked -- a little bit of hobbling mixed in -- over to her.
He took one of her hands and drew her toward him. How he could limp around, but somehow be so suave was beyond her.
The song that came on was suggestive to say the least. Max pushed away from the very innocent looking Logan.
"Logan, what the hell is that?" she demanded.
"Oh my God, I have no idea," he replied. "Damn Bling's been playing with my stereo again!"
Max couldn't help but laugh.
"Change it to another song," she insisted through a smile.
He did, and the song that came on was worse than the first.
"I have no idea how this happened," he insisted, and Max swore she could see a halo hanging over his head. He was almost as good at playing innocent as she was. Still, she felt flattered, and a little turned on.
"You're an awful liar," she told him. He looked down at her, his blue eyes shining.
"Give me a little credit, Max," he replied. "I'm not that bad."
He was too close, the music was too suggestive, and before she had time to think about what she was about to do, she kissed him. It was delightful...no, more than delightful, it was magical. She was horrified to find that she couldn't let go, didn't want to.
Logan's arms came around her, pulling her close.
"You know," he said as he broke the kiss long enough to talk, his lips brushing hers even as he spoke. "Of all the places for a cure to be, it's remarkable that it was inside of you."
He was so adorable, his voice so inticing.
"Maybe it's a sign," she replied. "You know, destiny and all."
"Maybe," he grinned and kissed her again.
