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Alec lay on his back on the thinly padded bunk, staring upwards and twiddling his thumbs, counting for the hundredth time the little holes in the cement ceiling of his cell. The overhead fluorescent light behind its protective cage shone glaringly in his eyes. He wished there was a way to turn it off -- but the lights, like everything else in his life now, were regulated by Manticore. On at 5 a.m., off at 10 p.m.

With a heavy sigh, Alec scratched at his beard stubbled cheek, then shielded his eyes with a forearm, deciding he might as well try to sleep. There sure as hell wasn't anything else to do. He'd already run through his calisthenics routine and Taekwondo forms three times, and washed his face and chest in the cold water of the sink. Dinner -- some kind of mashed potatoes mixed with meat and God only knew what pharmaceuticals -- had been over an hour ago, shoved through a slot in the steel door by a guard who had orders not to talk to the X5 prisoner. He ate the crap because it was the only way to keep up his strength. Now, other than taking a shit in the toilet in the corner, there really wasn't anything else on his daily agenda left.

However, a few seconds after Alec had closed his eyes there was the sound of a door sliding open -- the big one at the end of the corridor. There weren't many occupants in this underground wing of Manticore. He'd been relegated to the basement -- solitary confinement -- after being released from the hospital ward. Told he was being kept here to heal, he knew it was really the beginning of his reindoctrination -- total segregation, isolation, boredom ... standard brainwashing techniques. Been there, done that, survived before. He knew he'd make it, at least through this part of Lydecker's little game. But what he wouldn't give to hear Joshua's friendly voice, or get a whiff of one of Mole's cigars. Even the sound of Max scolding would have been music to his ears. Max, the love of my life who I'm going to get back to someday.

However, Alec wasn't stupid or naive. He also knew it was those yearnings, more than anything else, that he had to be wary of. He had friends ... family ... people he loved ... a life to go back to. It was a weakness he hadn't had before -- those other times he'd survived Manticore reindoctrination. And Lydecker was diabolical at exploiting weaknesses.

Voices. Footsteps. Alec's keen ears perked. Lydecker and one -- make that two others. He was sitting up on the bunk when his cell door opened, bare feet flat on the floor, the grey t-shirt they'd given him quickly pulled back on. Other than the military khaki pants that was about it as far as his wardrobe went -- no underwear even. However, he'd counted himself lucky they'd at least allowed more than a hospital gown.

He'd been down here 51 days. These were the first visitors he'd had other than the silent doctors checking his vital signs, stitches, and the almost healed bones (ribs and sternum) that had been broken during his open heart surgery.

Alec started to stand up when Lydecker came through the door, balling his hands into fists in an attempt to contain the urge to strangle the man on sight for what he'd done to Max. But the colonel wasn't a fool. He'd brought Lane and Devon with him -- more than enough muscle to protect him from a barely recovered, still shaky on his feet X5.

Before Alec had completely risen, Lane's heavy hand came down on his shoulder, forcing him back onto the bunk. "Easy there, brother," the big blonde X5 drawled. "Stand down."

"What's goin' on?" Alec asked, the question going to Lane. Enemy or not, X5-600 was still at least his own kind, and he'd much rather talk to him than to Lydecker.

Lane smirked, while equally handsome Devon watched with cruel humor glinting in his dark eyes. "Time for you to take the next step toward rejoining us, brother," X5-600 said.

"What are you talkin' about?" Alec asked, although he had a terrible feeling he knew what was about to happen.

In reply, Lane grabbed hold of one of his arms and Devon the other. Instinctively, Alec struggled, lashing out with his foot and nailing the bigger X5 in the stomach. With a snarl of rage, Lane swung a fist that caught the slighter built transgenic in the side, just to one side of his healing wound.

Alec cried out and doubled over as Lydecker roared, "Stop!"

Devon, who'd been about to take a shot at his recalcitrant former unit mate himself, paused in mid swing.

Gasping, Alec collapsed back on the bunk, holding his barely knitted broken ribs. It was Lydecker who grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his head around and staring directly into his eyes. "Come with me, son," he said in a strangely gentle voice. "Don't make a fuss of it. Believe me, you don't want to waste your strength."

A chill ran down Alec's spine. He was right -- about what was now going to happen -- and he knew that all he could do was try to find the courage to face the inevitable.

"Don't call me 'son'," he spat in Lydecker's face. "Don't ever call me 'son'."

The colonel smiled and let go of him. "Technically, you're correct," he said, his tone still strangely calm. "Like I told Max once, I'd never have presumed to contaminate the gene pool with my own DNA." But then he leaned forward again and whispered in Alec's ear, "However, I do know who's eyes you have."

Alec stared at him, not certain what to make of that comment. Lydecker motioned to Lane and Devon. "Take him," he said. "If he gives you any trouble--" He shook his head grimly. "Inform the doctor when you arrive in the neuro-psych ward."

Swallowing hard, Alec caught Lane's eyes with his own, silently pleading. Help me, brother. But the big X5, his expression now impassive, merely grabbed hold of his arm again in a vice-like grip and hauled him to his feet. With Devon on the other side, they then left behind the cell that Alec would later fall on his knees and beg to return to -- a place without pain.

*****

They hit the Steelheads hard, striking silently in the night, a force of more than 40 transgenics and transhumans strong. Led by Mole, and using state-of-the-art weapons stolen from a military base outside of Seattle, they killed over a dozen of the cyber-tech junkies while taking minimal casualties themselves.

The Steelheads never knew what hit them -- but the newspapers accounts the following morning sure gave them a clue.

"Terminal City Freaks Turn on City!" the headlines blared. An emergency session of city council was called, and the first order of business was to eliminate TC's seat. The second was to revoke all TC resident sector passes. And the third (Max's favorite) was to issue a proclamation stating the city of Seattle could in no way be held financially responsible for damages inflicted by the mutants who were now declared to be illegally occupying condemned city property.

In two hours time, nearly a year's worth of work toward gaining freedom and equal rights for the Manticore survivors had gone down the drain. Instead of equal citizens of Seattle, they were relegated to the status of nothing more than a street gang.

Max sat atop the Space Needle staring into the darkness, oblivious to the beauty of the twinkling city lights below and stars above. Wrapping arms around her knees, she hugged herself and shivered. Are those his footsteps? His scent? God, how she missed his warmth ... his laughter ... the playful light in his beautiful eyes ... Never in all her life -- not even when she'd been pining for Logan during her incarceration at Manticore -- had she longed for someone's touch so much.

But Alec will never touch me again. Unbidden, the memory of her lover's mutilated body flashed before Max's eyes -- the blood ... the stench, his muscles, bones, and sinews obscenely bared to the uncaring eyes of his butchers, his beautiful physique raped. They hadn't even draped him with a sheet ...

Tears welled in her eyes. At least Alec had been avenged -- 12 lives for his one. But of course that couldn't bring him back. And the price for her people had been so high ...

Max hadn't participated in the raid on the Steelheads, although she'd known what was going down. When Detective Ramone Clemente came to her the following day, furiously demanding an explanation, she'd honestly been able to shrug her shoulders and say she hadn't been there.

However, Max also knew that she was the one truly responsible for the predicament the TC residents were now in. With Alec gone, she was once again their leader. She could have stopped the slaughter if she'd wanted to. But after that hideous night with Lydecker ... after having her body violated in every way possible ... after losing him ... She hadn't been in a frame of mind to intervene.

Damn it, why did we waste so much time? Why did it take me so long to see the truth, that Alec was my destiny, not Logan? Why did the big jerk have to die?

But there weren't any answers for Max on top of the Space Needle -- only bittersweet memories of a stormy night in a deserted restaurant, and the brash young transgenic male who'd rocked her world.

*****

Alec couldn't help it. When he saw "the room" ... "the chair" ... and he knew that his worst nightmares were going to come true, the brave act he'd been keeping up began to unravel.

He'd never had a very high pain threshold. Oh, he'd survived physical torture before -- at Manticore, and at the hand of Ames White -- because he'd had an insatiable desire to not only just keep breathing, but to remain true to himself. His ego had sustained his courage, that and his genetically enhanced body, overcoming the weakness of his central nervous system.

But now he was so very, very tired ... And the one person in the world he truly loved thought he was dead. Max was going to move on without him, which was how things should be. However, knowing she would forget him, that his life with her was over before it had really begun -- knowing what he'd never have -- made him once again yearn for the sweet darkness.

Whether he realized it or not, Alec, 494, had lost the will to live -- which made him Lydecker's.

He fought like a wild thing, but in the end they had him strapped down, his head restrained, his right eye pried open, the laser poised, a plastic insert forced between his teeth to keep his air passage open and to prevent him from choking or biting his tongue. The doctor was someone Alec recognized -- the curly haired, high-forehead, geek scientist who'd removed the explosive device from his neck a year and a half ago. Apparently Lydecker had been recruiting more than just X5s.

"Give him a full dose," Lydecker ordered the doctor as Lane and Devon, along with an ordinary soldier cradling a machine gun, stood guard.

"The psychoactive compound is harsh," the doctor said, disbelief evident in his voice. He gestured toward his heavily panting, terrified patient. "This boy underwent open heart surgery barely two months ago. He's still on antibiotics and anti-inflamatories. Do you want to kill him? Because injecting him with psychoactives is one sure way to do it. His heart won't be able to stand the strain. If his pressure goes too high, those internal stitches won't hold. He'll bleed into the pericardium or else he'll throw an embolism."

"He's no good to me the way he is!" Lydecker barked. "I have orders to break him, and by God, that's what I'm going to do! I want this X5-Unit made operational, and I don't want to have to cut half his brain out to do so. If he loses his gifts to a lobotomy... his special genetic abilities ... he'll only be good for breeding. I need him to be a soldier, not just a stud! And I need his taming to begin now!"

How nice to be a valuable commodity, Alec thought ironically as he listened to his fate being bantered about between the two men. Painfully, he tried to swallow -- a difficult feat with the plastic insert jammed down his throat. I can't even close my eyes ... He told himself it was his imagination that it felt as if his rapidly beating, healing heart was already tearing itself in half.

"Put in the I.V. line," Lydecker ordered, his words brooking no more argument. "Full dose." Then he reached out, and in an oddly possessive gesture, stroked calloused fingers back through Alec's hair, taking pleasure in the way the helpless X5 was watching him with wide frightened eyes. Icy blue met hazel-green -- and won. "Take him all the way down to Hell," he said quietly.

"So," the geek asked, surprisingly defiant. "Let me get this straight. You want me to kill him? Because if that's your ultimate goal, a straight shot of high potency morphine would be a heck of a more humane way to put him down."

"I said I don't want him dead," Lydecker snapped. "494's not going to escape from me so easily. You have your orders. Do it. Break him, but keep his heart beating."

The doctor shrugged, and there was the stab of a large gauge needle being drilled into a vein in Alec's right arm. He made a small sound, a whimper he wasn't proud of. Lydecker, heard. "Don't worry, son," he said gently. "We won't let you die."

And then Alec felt the white hot drug flowing through him, and the room began to spin. But it was the red laser beam piercing the pupil of his eye, overstimulating the pain receptors in his brain without causing actual physical damage to the precious X5-Unit, that finally made his body arch in agony, eliciting the scream that Donald Lydecker had been waiting so very long to hear.