Chapter 19 – Parallel Courses, Aligned Hearts
August 25, 1991 – South Station, Boston
The train screeched to a halt. The day was slightly overcast, and the late summer wind blew with an early hint of autumn. Logan stepped off the train with his black rolling suitcase, the same simple model that had accompanied him since freshman year. The backpack was slung over one shoulder, and the leather briefcase was clutched tightly in his left hand.
As soon as he passed through the turnstile, he saw Thomas leaning against one of the concrete columns, arms crossed, a slight smile on his lips and the same messy haircut he always wore when he wasn't going to interviews.
"You're here earlier than expected," Thomas commented, pushing himself off the column.
"I left early," Logan replied, smiling back. "I was anxious to get back. The last month has been… intense."
Thomas took the handle of Logan's suitcase without asking and began walking beside him.
— Did Dr. Rowe enslave you again?
— No. On the contrary. She promoted me. Starting next semester, I'll be working with a new unit linked to the Department of Homeland Security. Even more confidential.
— Wow. Now you can officially disappear and no one will know.
— Exactly what I wanted from my life — Logan said ironically, laughing.
They left the station side by side, crossing the street towards the bus line. It was strange, but comfortable: returning to the routine as if no time had passed. As if everything was on hold, waiting for Logan's return.
August 26 – Apartment, Cambridge
The apartment was almost the same. The same shared study table in the corner of the living room, the chairs with coffee marks, the books stacked in strategic disarray. But there were new boxes in Thomas's room, a new bookshelf being assembled, and a world map on the wall.
Logan raised an eyebrow as he entered his friend's room.
— New decor?
— International law, my friend — Thomas replied, taking the bubble wrap off a globe. — I thought it would be thematic.
Logan smiled and leaned against the doorframe.
— Are you going to become an ambassador?
— No, but... maybe a legal advisor for international operations. Or for some global organization. UN, OAS, something like that.
— It seems... right for you. You've always been more diplomatic than me.
Thomas laughed and sat down on the bed.
— And you've always been the most direct, intense and, well... dangerous. In a good way.
Logan walked over and sat in the swivel chair.
— It's going to be weird not having classes together anymore.
— I know. But we still sleep under the same roof. Share the same Wi-Fi. And the same fridge — he added, nodding toward the kitchen. — And, as usual, you still eat more peanut butter than is acceptable.
Logan laughed out loud this time. And in that laugh, there was relief.
August 27 – First Class of National Security Law III – Harvard Law School
The room was almost full. Logan's seat was his usual one: third row, center. He always liked to be close enough to see details, but not in the front row so as not to appear arrogant. He had a natural, instinctive poise.
Professor Anne Whitaker entered promptly. A woman with gray hair tied in a bun, a navy blazer, and a sharp gaze. She was a former security policy advisor during the Reagan administration, known for having no patience for vague answers.
"Welcome to hell," she said bluntly. "Or, as you call it, your last year of law school."
Some laughed, others swallowed hard.
"In this class, we'll be working on real cases," she continued. "Some of them recently declassified. You'll be signing confidentiality agreements. And yes, if you speak outside this room, you may be arrested. Questions?
Silence. Only Logan, with a slight gleam in his eyes, was taking notes eagerly. Whitaker approached him, without looking directly.
"You must be Moore," she said, as if she already knew.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Dr. Rowe wrote to me about you. She says you're disciplined, sharp, and tireless. I want to see if it's true."
"I'll do my best to prove it."
"Better than that. Don't waste my time." She turned her back.
Logan could barely hide his smile. It was this kind of challenge that drove him.
August 28 – Night at the Apartment
Logan and Thomas sat side by side at the study table. Each with their books, papers, and summary sheets. The soundtrack was a cassette tape of instrumental jazz. There was silence between them, but it was a comfortable silence.
Thomas closed his book and leaned back in his chair. "Is Professor Whitaker all she's cracked up to be?"
— And then some — Logan replied, without taking his eyes off the screen. — She's brilliant. But relentless. If you falter, she notices.
— I bet you excelled in the first class.
Logan shrugged modestly.
— I just answered one question. Nothing major.
Thomas watched him for a moment.
— You don't realize it, but the way you answer… it changes the environment. People shift in their chairs. They pay attention.
Logan looked away, disconcerted.
"I never thought of that."
"Because you're busy being you. And that's already enough."
The silence returned. But it was a different kind of silence now. Full of recognition, affection, and complicity.
Chapter 20 – Silent Oath
September 7, 1991 – Harvard Law Library, Cambridge
The college library, silent as a temple, was home to dozens of tense-eyed students and tables covered in codes, highlighters, and thermoses of coffee. The semester had only started two weeks ago, but for finalists like Logan and Thomas, time seemed to fly by at a rapid pace especially for those who had decided to take the Bar Exam later that year.
Logan was sitting at the same table as always, with his headphones connected to a portable recorder, listening to review audios. In front of him was a copy of the "New York Bar Exam Review Book" with several pages marked with colorful Post-its.
Thomas, next to him, was studying for the Massachusetts Bar Association exam, which focused more on local law, with an emphasis on administrative rules and international law.
"Are you sure you want to take the New York one now?" Thomas asked, without taking his eyes off his notebook.
Logan took a deep breath before answering.
"I am." It's not just the title. It's… personal. I want to make sure that if I ever decide to come back, I have everything ready. My name on the New York records. It's like… a symbol to me."
Thomas looked at him over the top of his glasses. "A symbol of where you came from?"
"And where I want to come back as someone who can make a difference."
Thomas nodded silently. He knew. Since his first day of college, Logan had carried with him more than ambition he had a purpose.
September 15, Cambridge Apartment, 10:17 p.m.
The windows were closed. The sound of light rain hitting the glass mingled with the sound of Logan's fingers typing on his portable typewriter. He kept daily summaries. It was his method of committing to content and also a way to let off steam without breaking down. Thomas came out of the kitchen with two mugs of hot tea. He handed one to Logan and sat down in the armchair.
— You're exhausted — he commented, observing his friend's sunken eyes.
— Only two more weeks of intensive review. Then... the Bar.
— I'm afraid I'll freak out — Thomas said with a tired smile. — And Massachusetts is less brutal than New York.
Logan took a sip of tea. He looked out the window, thoughtful.
— I only think about my parents. They sacrificed themselves for me. They did so much with so little. If I pass, it won't just be my victory.
Thomas smiled, resting his head on the chair.
— You'll pass. And you'll make history. I know it.
September 28 – Exam Day, Manhattan
The convention center in downtown Manhattan was packed. Hundreds of law students, all dressed in formal, neutral attire, lined up in organized lines with their test materials. The atmosphere was one of silent tension. Some were mumbling prayers. Others were mentally reviewing legal formulas.
Logan was among them, sitting on a window sill, looking out over the East River. He was dressed in a dark gray suit and white shirt, with a closed leather briefcase at his side. His eyes were calm, but his breathing betrayed the weight of the moment.
He pulled a small photo of his parents Richard and Clara from his pocket, taken on the day of his college graduation. It was a silent reminder, a reminder of where it all began.
"I'll do this for you," he muttered to himself, before tucking the photo away.
September 30, Thomas's Bar Exam Day, Boston
As Logan flew back to Boston, Thomas was starting his own bar exam at the Hynes Convention Center. He was tense, too, but Logan's voice echoed in his mind
"You can do this. You were born to do this."
Thomas answered the questions with determination. When he finished, he looked up at the sky and smiled. They were in different states, but they were fighting together.
October 2nd – Reunion Night
Thomas opened the apartment door and saw Logan sitting at the dining table with an open notebook, a cup of coffee and his head resting on his hands.
"Are you okay?" Thomas asked, putting his backpack aside.
Logan looked up and smiled slightly.
"I finished the exam. Now I have to wait. But it feels like I carried a truck on my back."
Thomas sat down across from him and opened a package of cookies.
"That's it. Now… we breathe."
"We survived, Tom. If we pass… it means we're ready to practice everything we studied."
"And if we don't, we'll try again."
Logan smiled.
"But we'll pass."
Thomas clinked his coffee cup.
"We will."
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