DISCLAIMER: All DARK ANGEL characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and DARK ANGEL itself belongs to FOX.

ARCHIVE: No

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & JRAUnlimited

"Logan's got a plan."

"A plan?" Alec said, pouring more syrup on the pancakes Gem had just brought to the diner table.

"Shut up."

"I haven't said anything yet, Max."

"Well, you were about to. Now, listen up. Logan says he can tell on the map about where the merman's cave is. Right above it is an old hotel -- The Slumber Inn. Used to be popular back when Pioneer Square was a main tourist attraction. Now, it's more of a flop house. However, old city records show that there's a sewer line running right beneath it which means there could be access somewhere in the basement to the cave."

"I already told you, Max," Alec said, thinking this was a bit of a long shot. "There wasn't any passage or tunnel or stinkin' hole to crawl through to get from there to ... wherever. I had to swim."

"Logan thinks there is -- a passage I mean," she insisted. "And he thinks it's accessible through the basement of that old hotel. There should be a sewer entrance somewhere on the sublevel according to the old city schematics."

"Then let's just go through the sewers and check it out," Alec said.

"They sewer tunnels have all been blocked off around the Square," Max said, sending scrambled eggs on a tour around her own plate with a fork but not doing much damage to them.

"You're gonna get anorexic if you don't start eatin' more," Alec observed.

"Shut up," she said.

"Don't you ever get tired of sayin' that to me?"

"No," she snapped. "I'm only sorry I didn't say it last night before ..."

"Before what?"

"Before you said what you said. That conversation never happened, Alec."

"I know it didn't," he replied softly, casting eyes down to his plate. "Just ... forget it. Forget what I said." And what you mean to me, he silently added.

"Already forgotten," Max replied, her troubled expression telling him it was anything but that. Then she pushed away from the table. "You and me," she said. "Tonight. We check in early evening to the hotel. Then, when everyone's asleep we head for the basement and find a way into our brother's lair. If all's clear, Logan can join us and we'll see if we can get through to the rest of the underground city from there."

"I suppose it's a plan," Alec conceded. "Do I get hazard pay for this one?"

"Consider it payment for your chicken dinner last night," she quipped, getting up to go.

Alec remained seated in the diner after she left -- but his pancakes and coffee grew cold.

*****

The X5 spent the day going about his Terminal City duties -- balancing the books at the Art Mall, seeing to it that a new "artist" (an X3 who'd decided to try his hand at refinishing furniture) got settled into a space, and arranging with Rita for Joshua's sixth art show at the Nylon Gallery, as well as an interview for the big guy with "The Artists' Weekly."

Just before dinner time he worked out in the gym with a couple of other X5s, and at 6 o'clock -- as arranged -- Max met him in the motorpool. At 6:30 they arrived at The Slumber Inn on their bikes where a greasy looking, pimply faced kid with the reddest hair Alec had ever seen leered lasciviously at Max and -- for fifty bucks -- handed them a key to a room on the third floor -- all that was apparently available that evening seeing as how the place was rapidly filling with its usual "clientele."

"Max, you do realize this is a crack house," Alec said as they climbed the rickety stairs, passing two guys along the way who made the word "wasted" sound healthy. His nose wrinkled, and he recognized the strong pungent odor of human urine. Apparently the landings took the place of bathrooms.

"Can't be helped," she said tightly as she tried to not touch the filthy bannister and stepped around what looked like a pile of steaming feces.

The smell was unbelieveable ...

They came to Room 311 with Alec gingerly opening the door using the key. Stepping over the threshold, his nose wrinkled again at the scent of smoke, must, mildew, and sweat. There was a bed with obviously used sheets, two pillows that still bore the imprints of the heads that had rested there, a night stand with one lamp, a broken clock, and not much else -- not even a television set.

"Oh," Max said as she eyed a cockroach scurrying up the wall. "This is beyond disgusting."

"Maybe we could wait in the lobby," Alec suggested, none too keen himself about spending the evening in this filthy hell hole.

"They'd think we were prostitutes and want a percentage," Max said. "Or at least that you were one." (Alec shot her a look.) "What time is it?"

"Not even seven," he said. "We won't be safe to make our move until after midnight."

"Maybe we could go and come back?" she asked, her tone slightly pleading.

Alec shook his head. "Too suspiscious. No. We better stay put for the night."

"No one would notice," Max tried.

But the soldier in Alec knew better. "Max," he said. "If this place really is adjacent to some big secret prison, you can bet there are people keeping watch here. You and I look suspicious enough as it is since we're obviously not addicts. I think the clerk bought our line about us bein' kids sneakin' out for a lark on the town, but I can't be sure. He's expecting the two of us to hole up here for the night and be doin' the big nasty, so I suggest that's what we give him."

"The big nasty part?" Max said.

Alec's brows drew down. "The holing up part," he clarified. "I wasn't flirting with you. This is a job. Business that could get dangerous."

"I know you weren't," she said quietly. She glanced around the horrible room once more, taking in the peeling pink flowered wallpaper and the threadbare rug with its gross stains. "I don't even want to touch anything," she said. "I suppose we could sit on the floor."

"Not necessary," Alec said, shedding his black leather jacket and spreading it out on the bed. "Here. Lie down on this. I'll take the floor."

She eyed him, as if not quite believing he could be so gallant. "Thanks," she said cautiously, seating herself gingerly on the creaking mattress. Her own jacket sufficed to cover the pillow, although sleep was probably the farthest thing from her mind. Stretching out, she put arms behind her head and studied her companion. "So," she finally said. "What are we going to do for the next five or six hours?"

"Two choices," Alec said as he stood by the window, lifting the ancient yellowed, pull-down shade to one side so he could see the street. "We can talk, or--" He glanced back at her, a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

"Or what?" she asked.

"Or we could have sex." He waited for her verbal explosion, having said that deliberately just to yank her chain (and as payback for that prostitute remark).

Max stared at him, as if sizing him up -- probably figuring out how to get back at him for that suggestion, he assumed.

"You really wanna have sex with me, Alec?" she finally said.

He shrugged. "Sure," he teased, playing the game. "What guy wouldn't?"

"All right," she said, sitting up and peeling off her tank top.