Artwork courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

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

ARCHIVE: No

This is a stand-alone story in my DARK ALEC series. These stories are my version of Season 4, and incorporate elements not only of the television show DARK ANGEL, but of the novels SKIN GAME and AFTER THE DARK, the book THE EYES ONLY DOSSIER, and information revealed in various cast/writer/producer interviews, chats, and commentaries. Part of this storyline was inspired by the ALIAS Season 3 episode "Conscious." -- author's note

Alec and Sketchy at Crash Bar

Crash Bar had a new big screen TV by the pool tables, but other than that the place looked just the same to Alec as it had the last time he'd been in here several months ago.

Once his favorite hang-out, the X5 now usually bought his Scotch in Terminal City's canteen, a place where he could kick back in his "off hours" without worrying about some paranoid anti-transgenic fanatic recognizing him as TC's city council representative and either staring or picking a fight.

However, the transgenic community's notoriety -- like most "one week wonders" -- was winding down in Seattle, the media attention waning (much to both his and Max's relief), and things were settling into a pattern of semi-normalcy that meant their infamous photogenic alderman could once again prowl the streets, not in total anonymity, but at least with some semblance of privacy.

Tonight Alec had been in the neighborhood, and a wave of nostalgia had come over him as he'd driven his KTM Duke down Euclid Street and caught a glimpse of the beaten-up doors of his old haunt. A lot of drama had gone down in that bar during his time in the city. It was a place where he'd made friends, and a couple of enemies ... a place where he'd once almost felt at home.

What can it hurt? the X5 thought as he dismounted from his bike in the parking lot across the street. He was done with his business for the day -- a deal for tryptophan he'd just closed with a middle-man at County General Hospital -- and he was in the mood for a drink. Max wasn't expecting him for another two hours and he had time to kill.

It was a Thursday night -- no weekend biker acrobatic performances going on -- which meant the bar was less crowded than usual, the place half empty in fact. Glancing around as he walked through the door, Alec spotted a couple of Jam Pony messengers as well as the new plasma screen TV. Sky was sitting by himself at a table toward the back, the short quiet little guy nursing a beer, and Greta (who'd once-upon-a-time not so shyly pressed her phone number into Alec's hand) was standing by the pool table talking with a waiter.

And then he saw Sketchy seated at the bar. The tall lanky guy -- dressed in Salvation Army layers and looking rather like a beach bum who'd lost his surf board -- was peering out at the world as it passed him by through scraggly, not-too-clean blond-dyed hair hanging in vaguely sleepy eyes.

Alec stopped just inside the door, remembering his last conversation with Sketchy. It had been just before Normal's wedding when his friend had awkwardly, and with much stammering, informed him that a transgenic wasn't welcome at Reagan Ronald's bachelor party because they didn't want any trouble.

That had hurt. They hadn't talked since -- and he didn't feel like talking now.

The X5 turned around to leave -- but it was too late.

"Alec!"

He tried not to wince when Sketchy scrambled up and slapped him on the back hard. "Hey, buddy! Where've ya been? I haven't seen you in forever. You know, I'm still available to help with the underground transgenic cause if you want. You can always count on me!"

Alec closed his eyes a moment, steeling himself, then put on a big smile and turned to the bike messenger/New World Weekly reporter. Putting a friendly arm around Sketchy's shoulder, he pulled the enthusiastic puppy to one side, away from the crowd. "Yeah, I appreciate that Sketch, but let's not advertise it to the whole world, okay?" he said in a conspiratorial tone of voice. "It's supposed to be a secret, remember?"

Actually, the transgenic underground supply line wasn't used as much as it had been in the days of the siege, but there were still times the TC residents needed to "import" less than legal goods that couldn't be brought in through the front gates or negotiated for in the open. O.C. had been a big help as a liaison a couple of times over the past months, and Father's House was still a drop point for local messages they didn't want to risk being overheard on cell phone lines. However, Alec had been reluctant to use Sketchy ever since the bachelor party incident. Apparently the reporter had been feeling neglected -- not to mention clueless as to how badly he'd offended the X5.

"I've been meanin' to look you up, man," Sketchy said. "Lemme buy you a beer."

Free beer? Why not? Alec thought. What could it hurt?

"Sure," the X5 said, scratching the back of his head and looking toward the nearly empty bar. "We'll catch up and talk about old times."

"Not old times," Sketchy said as he signaled the bartender. "Bring a pitcher," the messenger said. "And put it on my tab."

Alec raised an eyebrow. A whole pitcher?

"I've got a regular column now at the paper," Sketchy explained with a grin. "More money in my pocket, and I probably owe you about a thousand brewskies anyway."

"Good for you, man," Alec said, his own enthusiasm not entirely false as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over his lap. He'd always liked Sketchy, and the fact the guy was cozying up to him again so innocently made him want to let bygones be bygones. He'd never really been the kind to hold a grudge anyway, at least not over something so trivial as hurt feelings.

The pitcher came. Alec poured himself a glass of the foaming golden liquid, then brushed aside some peanut shells and planted an elbow on the bar surface. "How's life at team Jam Pony?" he asked, feeling a need to start the conversation.

"Same old, same old," Sketchy said. "We thought maybe marriage would mellow Normal, but instead I think it's made the guy more anal than ever. He's either in a big hurry to leave in the evening to get back to the little misses, or else he's had a fight with her and won't go home."

Alec smirked. "Sounds a lot like my life," he said.

"You and Max?"

The smirk softened into a genuine smile. "We have our ups and downs," Alec said. "You know Max. But basically we're fine, and I don't think either of us would have it any other way. When a relationship is all sweetness and light things get boring."

"You and Max always were two sides of the same coin," Sketchy said, the comment surprisingly insightful. "Sort of like fire and gun powder -- dangerous, but always interesting. Hey, I'm glad you're okay, man. I mean it. After Normal's wedding I felt real bad, and I always meant to come over to TC and make things right with you. I should have let you come to the party. But back then ... I was kinda scared."

"Water under the bridge," Alec said lightly, waving it off with his hand. "I'm a big boy. I got over it. What's that saying? Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me?"

"Great!" Sketchy beamed. "Then you and me are square! Now, I've got this little favor to ask you."

Uh-oh, Alec thought. Here it comes.

"Favor?"

"I wanna learn how to fight."

"How to fight?" Alec realized he was sounding like a parrot, but Sketchy's request had come out of left field and caught him totally off guard.

"Yeah," the skinny reporter said, thrusting a closed fist through the air. "I wanna learn how to do all those karate things ... how to kick ass. I'm tired of bein' a wimp, Alec. And I figure that martial arts is the way to go."

"And you want me to teach you?" Alec said, needing to be perfectly clear.

"Who better? I wanna get my black belt."

"Sketch," Alec said. "I could show you a few moves, but it takes years to get a black belt."

"Years?" the messenger said, his enthusiasm waning a bit. "How many years?"

"For an ordinary, five ... maybe six," Alec said truthfully. "And that's with a lot of lessons and hours of practice. The physical requirements alone are pretty tough, Sketch."

"But I wanna wear a black belt," Sketchy whined.

"Why?" Alec said, his voice a bit clipped. "As some kind of status symbol?"

"Well, yeah," the reporter admitted. "Ya see, there's this new chick at Jam Pony who's really into all the Bruce Lee, Kung Fu type of stuff."

Alec nodded, getting it now. This, he could relate to. He looked around the bar. "Is she here?" he asked.

Sketchy paled slightly. "No, and -- geez, here we go again -- but please, Alec, I don't want her to-- I mean, I wish you wouldn't ... Man, if she ever gets a look at you I won't have a chance."

Alec was trying not to laugh. "Don't worry. I'm taken," he said. "Remember?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're dead," Sketchy said. "You're always gonna be a chick magnet, Alec. They flock to you."

"True," Alec admitted, his ego rearing its head. "But, as they say, my friend, it takes two to tango. So, not to worry. I'm not on the market."

"But Bessie would still flip out over you, and then I'd never have a chance," Sketchy whined. "She already knows I'm in tight with the transgenics, and she's hinted she wants to meet some."

"We'll introduce her to Dix and Luke, sometime," Alec said. "Maybe Mole. That should satisfy her curiosity."

"She wants to meet X5s. I just thought that if I could fight like one of you guys, she might look my way."

Alec felt for the bike messenger. He really did. But he couldn't truly help him.

"Sketch," he said seriously. "I could show you how to defend yourself, but if you're talkin' serious martial arts you need to go take lessons from a human. I mean, we've got babies in TC who could whip your skinny ass -- no offense. The disparity is too great."

"Disparity?" Sketchy said, not understanding.

Too big of a word, Alec realized. "We're too different, physically. Not compatible. Comprende? You need to learn from someone like you. What I do ... I can't teach you. It's physically impossible."

Sketchy was looking crestfallen. "Ah, man, and here I thought I had the perfect solution."

However, Alec's mind had suddenly switched tracks. Someone new had just come through the doors ... someone he really had been wanting to talk to.

"Excuse me," he said, standing up, his eyes riveted on the blonde who'd just entered Crash.

"What?" Sketchy said.

"I gotta go. We'll talk more later, okay?"

Sketchy looked over his shoulder toward the door. "I thought you were in tight with Max?" he said.

"I am," Alec replied vaguely.

"Then what the hell do you want with her?"

"To thank her," Alec said, picking up his jacket and heading for the other end of the bar where Asha Barlow had just settled in for a drink.

*****

Alec and Asha

"Tequila shot, right?" Alec said.

He'd startled her. He could tell by the look in her blue eyes.

"Alec ..."

"Bar keep!" Alec said, signaling the bartender. "A tequila for the lady."

Asha smiled, just a little bit. "Deja vu all over again, huh?"

"Isn't this where I'm supposed to say 'long time no see'?" Alec replied as picked up his glass of beer and followed her to a table that hadn't yet been cleared.

"You're looking good," Asha said. "Max must be treating you well."

"I've got no complaints," Alec said honestly.

"I'm glad you two finally figured things out."

Alec's brow furrowed slightly. "Whatdaya mean?"

"It was pretty obvious from the very beginning that you guys belonged together," she said. "It's just too bad Logan couldn't see it, too."

Alec's silence was his agreement. "You know," he said. "I owe you a big thank you. You saved my life. If you hadn't given Max the antidote to that poison, I'd be a dead man."

Asha shrugged and took a sip of her tequila. "I just did what was right," she said. "Plus, I didn't want Logan to be a murderer." She regarded him closely. "Actually, I half expected you to come looking for revenge. Why'd you let Logan get away with it?"

"Tryin' to murder me?" Alec said. Now it was his turn to shrug. "Max couldn't do it -- kill the guy she'd once loved. As for me ... I was in debt to him. He saved my ass at Jam Pony. And I did kind of steal his girl. But it was Cale's one free pass. He better never come at me or Max again." Alec swirled the beer in his glass, watching the golden liquid, wishing it was Scotch, then took a sip. "You can tell him that for me if you want," he added after swallowing.

"Logan and I broke up," Asha said, her shoulders slumping at the words.

"Because of what you did for me?"

"Sort of ... yes."

Alec snorted softly. "Figures. The guy always did have a real possessive streak when it came to women. He wouldn't take what he saw as betrayal very well."

"It wasn't just that I betrayed him," Asha said. "It was because it was you."

"The guy who already stole one of his girlfriends?" Alec said, smiling at the irony of it -- that Cale would destroy a relationship with a woman who loved him out of spite over the woman who didn't.

"Logan's a good man," Asha said defensively. "He cares for me, really he does, and I agree with his views about the transgenics ... the way he's backing McKinley's bill. Your people's DNA can't be allowed to contaminate the human gene pool. It could mean the end of mankind as a race -- surely even you can see the logic behind that. But genocide isn't the way to go. There has to be a reasonable alternative."

She took a breath and looked toward the back of the bar. In a way," she continued more quietly, "I'm glad we broke up. He's never really gotten over Max, and I've--" She suddenly stopped talking and the X5 looked at her sharply.

"You've what?" he asked, taking another sip of beer and wishing the alcohol could drown out the anti-transgenic trash she was spewing.

Asha downed a large drink of her tequila and stared at the mess of dirty glasses on the table. "I like you, Alec," she finally mumbled. "And Logan knows it ... hates it."

"So, we're friends," Alec said. "Why's that got him bent out of shape?"

"You and Max were friends ... first."

Alec blinked. "Which ..." he said carefully, "is all you and I will ever be, Asha. Friends."

"Don't you ever get tired of her, Alec?" she said, her voice oddly plaintive. "Of Max's bossiness and her demands. Don't you ever think about other girls any more? You were always such a womanizer, a different flavor each week. It wasn't that long ago that you wanted me, Alec. You sat right over there, at that table, and told me so. If I hadn't passed out on your couch that night it might have been you and me instead of you and Max, or at least I like to think so."

"What ever happened to me and Max belongin' together?" the X5 said. "Yeah, Asha, I once wanted you. Hell, you're a beautiful woman. Any man would. But there's a big difference to me between 'love' and 'want'. You know that."

"Do you still?" she breathed softly, for the first time looking directly into his eyes. "Want me I mean? Because if you do ... If there's any chance at all ..."

"Asha--"

"I'm not in love with Logan any more. I swear."

"The fact you hafta say that to me makes you a liar," Alec said. "You're just lookin' to punish the guy by sleepin' with the enemy. I won't be your means of revenge, Asha. And besides, like you already know, me and Max are tight. I'm not lookin' for a change of scenery. The view I've got in my own bed right now suits me just fine." His lip quirked as he added a caveat. "And remember, I'm not the boy next door. I'm a lab experiment ... not to mention an assassin. Just a second ago you were callin' my DNA tainted. I wasn't built for you, sweetheart."

Alec knew he was being blunt -- brutal even -- but Asha's attitude alarmed him. He didn't need Cale thinking he'd stolen yet another one of his women. Eyes Only might be just an ordinary, but he could also be a powerful enemy, especially now that he was in McKinley's camp. Picking up his jacket from off his lap, he threw some bills down on the table and stood to leave.

"See ya around, Asha," he said softly as he donned the jacket. He was tempted to add the cliched "Have a nice life" to put finality on the conversation (and the relationship) but didn't.

"Alec--"

But the X5 had already turned his back on her and was headed for the door. Max would be waiting for him at their place.

*****

Alec had swung a leg over his bike in the parking lot when he heard the sound of an altercation. Something was happening in the alley next to Crash.

"Leave me alone!" a woman yelled.

It was dark, but that didn't matter to the X5 as his eyesight zoomed in. It was Asha. The S1W member was struggling in the grip of two men while a third pawed at her clothes. She'd apparently left the bar right behind him, maybe even trying to catch up to him, and had been grabbed.

There were a few other people nearby, but no one seemed inclined to help.

"Great," Alec muttered under his breath as he climbed back off his bike. "Just great."

The men had dragged their victim deeper into the alley by the time Alec strolled across the street. The two holding Asha by the arms were not much more than teenagers -- hungry looking, dressed in thread-bare clothes, with the savagery of predators in their eyes. The other one -- who'd by now ripped open Asha's blouse and pulled down her bra -- was older, the leader. His eyes were calm and calculating, his jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket new, not used. The fire-shaped tattoos on the wrists identified all three as members of The Flamers -- a Latino/Russian street gang that had replaced the Furies as the number one menace in the streets of Seattle.

"Let her go," Alec said, his voice deep and commanding.

The leader looked up and sneered. "Or what, gorgeous?"

"I said, let her go."

"You gonna make me?"

"Yeah. I am."

"You and what army?"

Asha had gotten one hand free and was using it to pull her blouse back together, her blue eyes large and alarmed as she looked at Alec.

"Don't need an army," Alec said calmly. He smiled like a cat about to eat a canary. "Ya see, you're just ordinaries."

The two younger gang members looked at their leader sharply, suspicion dawning as to just who, or rather what, this might be.

The head honcho pulled out a knife.

"That all you got?" Alec asked, that small smile still playing on his full lips.

"I'll gut you like a fish, transie," the Latino hissed.

"No, you won't," Alec said, tiring of the conversation. "How it'll go down is like this. You and your boys will attack me, I'll whoop your asses ... break a few bones ... maybe cause some internal damage. Then the three of you will be left cryin' on the ground in your own blood and me and the lady will walk away and get back to our own business."

"You filthy piece of--

"Nate!" one of the boys said. "He's really one of them. I've seen his picture on the news. He's one of their leaders. Better let the bird go ... let him have her. You know what their kind can do."

Nate, unfortunately, wasn't inclined to listen to reason.

The attack was quick by human standards, and nothing by transgenic ones. Alec easily deflected the knife strike with his right hand, stepped to one side and delivered a karate blow to Nate's neck, then simply brought that same hand up and under the guy's chin, pulling him over backwards and tossing him hard to the street.

The X5 then whirled on his feet just in time to take out one of the boys with a vicious side kick, and the other with a blurred blow to the chin.

The whole battle had taken less than five seconds.

Asha gaped at the three groaning men lying in shambles at her feet. "You better get out of here," she breathed, looking up at Alec, her eyes still slightly panicked. "You can't afford trouble with the police."

The X5 knew that one of Crash's patrons might already have called the law to report Asha's attack. She was right.

"Be more careful, next time, Asha," Alec admonished her as he walked backwards for a few steps before turning and sprinting across the street to his bike.

"I owe you one!" she called after him.

"No!" he yelled. "Now we're even!"

Alec didn't look back as he rode off -- but if he had he'd have been disturbed by the way Asha's eyes were following him.

*****

NSA Agent Karl Nesbitt

"How long have you been working on this case?" Logan asked his friend.

"Almost five years," Karl Nesbitt said.

A fair-haired, pale skinned man of short stature and quick wit with the intellect and spectacles of a scholar, the former college professor/current NSA official had been friends with Logan Cale ever since the younger man had been a favorite student of his while attending university, and on occasion provided his former star pupil with tidbits of information useful to "Eyes Only."

"General Onan Sharise was assassinated in March of '18," the agent added. "I've been the assigned investigator since day one."

"And you think that what's on this video will help you solve the crime?" Logan said, holding up the tape Nesbitt had brought with him.

The middle-aged Nesbitt's combination of eclectic knowledge and curiosity made him a natural born criminologist, and a case like this was his "bread and butter." However, he was stymied at the moment, which is where his friendship with Cale came into play.

"I hate being so close, but not quite getting the prize," Nesbitt said quickly, his keen blue eyes narrowing slightly. "We know exactly what happened to Sharise -- in fact we sanctioned his assassination. What I've been investigating is who Sharise had ties to in the United States. We're fairly certain he was being fed information from a source inside one of the Agencies, but we've never been able to uncover the double agent."

"What's on the tape?" Logan asked.

Logan Cale and NSA Agent Karl Nesbitt

"Sharise's death," the NSA agent said bluntly. "The security cameras in his mansion were taken off line by the assassin's people, but recently this tape was turned over to us by the Syrian police. Now that the U.S. is in trade negotiations with their country, they're being more cooperative about a lot of things, including this investigation. There was another camera on the premises on a separate feed -- in the parking lot -- aimed in the general direction of the general's bedroom window. It recorded the hit, albeit in poor quality. Still, what's revealed is a huge breakthrough for my investigation."

"How so?" Logan asked.

"Sharise wasn't alone in his bedroom that night," Nesbitt said, leaning over Cale's desk as his friend began loading the videotape into a player that would transfer the information into the computer. "There was someone else in the room when the assassin attacked ... someone the killer apparently knew. However, the third party is deep in shadow and we can't make out the face, or even tell if it's a man or woman for that matter."

"Your boys tried to enhance the picture?" Logan said.

Nesbitt shook his head. "Can't be done."

"So, what do you expect me to be able to do?" Logan asked. "Wave a magic wand and come up with all the answers? I'm good with a computer, Karl, but your people have equipment far better than mine."

"I don't need your computer expertise, Logan," his friend said. "What I need is an I.D."

"I.D.?"

"On the assassin."

"Why would I be able to tell you who he is?"

"Because it's an X5," Nesbitt said grimly. "A Unit from Manticore, requested via inter-agency cooperation to perform the job. But the records of that mission appear to have been lost when the Seattle base was destroyed, and no one I've talked to at New Manticore is being very cooperative."

Both men watched as the tape began to play.

"I know you've worked closely with the transgenics for quite awhile now," the NSA agent said. "I was hoping you might recognize the soldier -- put a designation number to him, or even a name."

"Why do you want the X5?" Logan asked.

"Because that X knows who else was in the room that night."

"Aren't there notes of a debrief anywhere?" Logan said. "From Manticore?"

"Destroyed when the Seattle base went up in flames," Nesbitt said bitterly, and now I'm being stonewalled. "The NSA never received the actual mission notes, just a short summary. At the time, we didn't need to know more. After all, the job was successful. However, this tape puts everything in an entirely different light. There's a lot more that X5 could tell us, if we can find out who and where he is."

"Or if he's even still alive," Logan added. "Ames White killed off a great many transgenics before he was finally stopped. Your witness could be dead."

"Manticore only used its best and brightest for assignments like this," Nesbitt said. "I'm hoping that this particular X5 managed to survive."

"Well," Logan said. "Let's take a look." He hit play, and both men watched the screen closely.

The black and white picture was terribly grainy, the infrared resolution barely there, but they could still see when a figure dressed in a black commando uniform blurred across the parking lot, scaled the building like a cat, pried iron bars off Sharise's second floor bedroom window, and climbed through.

The picture then zoomed in, showing the interior. The general, hearing a noise apparently, pulled a gun from beneath his pillow and got off one shot that struck the X5 in the side. However, the Manticore soldier was still able to shoot Sharise in the head.

Which is when the tape got really interesting.

The X5, clutching his wound, suddenly looked up and raised his gun again -- only to lower the weapon when a figure stepped partially out of the shadows and said something to him. The soldier then nodded, turned, and leaped out of the second story window.

The tape ended.

Logan sat quietly, tapping the end of a pencil thoughtfully on his desktop. "That X5 spoke with your double agent," Logan said. "Either the soldier knew who it was, or the person had all the right words to keep a genetically engineered assassin off his, or her, ass."

"I need to talk to that X5," Nesbitt said.

Logan backed the tape up. "Well," he said, scratching his head. "He's not wearing a mask -- and it is a 'he' from the heavier build and the way he moves. But the face is awfully blurry. "Also, keep in mind that X5s aren't exactly known for their cooperation under interrogation. Even if you find him, he's probably not going to give up mission info unless ordered by New Manticore -- and, from what you've said, I gather the NSA isn't exactly at the top of that agency's Christmas card list any more."

"Whether the Unit wants to talk or not doesn't really matter," Nesbitt said. "We have ways of obtaining what we need." He threw a photograph down on the desk. "My technicians brought the soldier's face into focus -- good looking for a killing machine, isn't he?"

Cale looked down at the image of a handsome young X5, and his blue eyes lit up. Of all the luck ...

"Can you identify him?" Nesbitt asked anxiously. "Is he here? In Terminal City? If he is we need to pick him up for interrogation -- intense if he's uncooperative. We have to know who it was that night in Sharise's bedroom."

Smirking, Logan reached out and plucked the latest issue of New World Weekly from out of a nearby trash can.

"Your people are slipping, Karl," he said. "They should have caught this." He held up the front page where a picture of Alec was plastered next to Sketchy's sensationalized account of the latest Seattle City Council meeting. The headline read "Assassin Assassinates Council Session -- Transgenics Get Building Code Violation Reprieve When X5 Implies War." He tossed the paper down next to the enhanced photo on the desk. "Your killer ... or rather your witness ... is none other than Terminal City's second-in-command, X5-494."

*****

They only had time for a quickie -- the shower's hot water didn't last long enough for more.

Standing behind her, massaging her slippery breasts with his hands, Alec kissed Max's bar code gently, and molded his naked body against her back, hardness to softness, seeking permission.

They'd started having sex again only two weeks ago -- Max absolutely insisting on waiting for the blood work taken after her Congo incarceration to come back from Manticore before she'd let him do more than hold her in his arms at night. X5 immune systems were resilient, HIV infection among their kind extremely rare. However, there were documented cases in the Old Manticore lab records ... tests that were conducted ...

She wouldn't risk it, she said ... wouldn't risk him. Alec knew her caution was because she loved him. He also knew Max needed time after her ordeal in Africa, so for nearly a month he was content to simply snuggle with his head on her warm soft breast while she gently stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

But the blood work had come back fine. He told her he understood if she still wanted to wait, that he knew there was more to her reluctance than fear of passing on a disease.

Alec and Max Artwork courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"I fell off a horse," Max said quietly the night after her test came back clear, Christmas Eve. "I need to get back on and ride again. It's the only way to keep this thing from beating me." Then she'd looked deeply into his eyes in the dark. "Make it all right again, Alec," she whispered.

Afterwards, they were fine together again.

"We're late," Max said as he gently pushed her up against the shower wall, needing relief.

"Dix'll wait," he murmured in her ear as he brushed long strands of glistening wet hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck again. "He always does. Besides," he added. "The damn meeting's too early anyway. It's not even light out yet." His voice dropped an octave. "And I've got better things to do in the dark."

He kissed her then -- deeply.

"And Mole will be making smart ass remarks about our love life," Max half laughed against his lips as she guided his hands lower, down over her round belly to her place of pleasure.

"Let him," Alec growled, rubbing himself over the silky skin of her buttocks and between her legs. He pushed. Max gasped. And tightness suddenly surrounded him.

Her hands reached back to clasp his ass as she braced her feet, spreading legs slightly apart on the tiled shower floor.

Working her from the back, and teasing her from the front, Alec felt Max igniting under his ministrations, bringing him helplessly along for the ride.

"Alec," she groaned.

The sound of her calling his name always did it for him -- a validation that he was the one she wanted. And with that single word, as the hot spray of the shower beat against his bare back, 494 closed his eyes and let go, completely losing himself -- literally and figuratively -- inside his mate.

*****

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

"Guys," Luke said, looking up at the bank of surveillance monitors perched along one wall in Terminal City's control center. "We've got trouble."

"What is it?" Max asked, moving to stand beside the little bald-headed mutant who was watching the screens with alert beady black eyes.

"Who the hell is that?" Alec said, as usual at Max's side. Stuffing hands into the pockets of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels and cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "Not sector police," he said as he watched what appeared to be a team of rather well-armed men approaching Terminal City's main gate. "That's not the uniform."

"Looks more like some kind of combat squad," Dix commented, nodding his lumpy head knowingly and squeaking around in his un-oiled swivel chair as he pointed to the screen. "Those are P90's they're carrying."

"'Deck's people?" Max guessed.

"Breakin' the treaty?" Alec said. "I can't see him bargin' in here with guns drawn when all he has to do is invite us to his office across the street. Besides, I've been a very good boy lately."

"Indeed, you have," Max said with a little smile.

Mole, who'd come into the room to see what the commotion was all about, heard her and grinned lasciviously. "You can take the boy out of the bedroom," he said. "But I guess you can't take the bedroom out of the boy."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Alec said, shaking his head.

The lizard man took another puff of his cigar and tried to look innocent. "Nothin'," he said, his tone implying otherwise.

"Boys!" Max said sternly. "Straighten up! This could be serious. They're arguing with our gate guard. Billy doesn't wanna let 'em in."

Billy, a tall, dark skinned, third generation X5 who'd returned from Canada and joined the Terminal City crew six months earlier, could be seen on the screen standing his ground, one hand resting on a semi-automatic pistol tucked in his belt.

"Come on," Alec said, grabbing his black leather jacket from off the back of a chair and shrugging into it, knowing he'd need the warmth. The control center, with its electrical equipment, was fairly comfortable on this winter Seattle day, but it was definitely not t-shirt weather outside.

Max and Mole accompanied Alec to the gate, and Joshua -- who'd noticed the uproar -- walked over from the Art Mall across the street in the pre-dawn darkness.

"What's goin' on, Little Fella," Joshua called out to her.

"Don't know, Big Fella," Max replied, keeping her eye on the leader of the six-man squad.

"Open the gate," the commando ordered.

Billy looked at Alec, but it was Max who spoke. "What do you want?"

Sergeant Avery Allan

The leader, a thirty-something WASP Marine with military haircut and stature, pointed a finger at Alec. "Him," he said. "I'm Sergeant Avery Allan. We've been sent to retrieve that X5 Unit."

"Sent by whom?" Max spat, planting hands on hips, her entire attitude beyond defiant.

"The National Security Agency," the officer replied. "He's wanted for questioning."

"Geez," Alec said. "I knew I riled people up at that council meeting the other night, but I didn't expect the mayor to call in the Marines."

Max ignored him. "Questioning about what?"

"A matter of national security."

"Which would explain the National Security agency part of this, right?" Alec quipped. "What national security matter?"

Max turned to him. "What did you do?" she asked under her breath.

"Max, I swear. I don't know what they're talkin' about. I swear I didn't--"

"What. Did. You. Do?" she repeated through gritted teeth. "Alec, if you've pulled some stunt that's put all of us in danger ..."

Insulted now, Alec held up both hands. "Nothing," he said, his voice dead serious. "You know I'd never--"

"Shut up!" she snapped. Then, to the officer, "What are the charges?"

"No charges," the man replied. "Like I said, he's just wanted for questioning."

"Then why the arsenal, Avery?" Max asked, gesturing to the very well armed contingency standing behind the sergeant.

The officer smiled. "We're dealing with an X5, ma'am," he said sarcastically.

"Alec's not going anywhere with you," Max said adamantly.

"Open the gate," was Allan's reply.

"Or what?" Mole spoke up for the first time. "You gonna shoot your way in?"

"If we have to."

Alec glanced at Joshua, who was standing on the wrong side of the fence and way too close to the armed squad for his liking. If fireworks started, the dog man would be a sitting duck. As for himself, he had a Glock tucked in the back waistband of his jeans under his jacket, and he imagined Mole was armed as well, plus Billy's pistol. But it would be a poor showing against soldiers in bullet proof vests wielding high tech machine guns.

"Wait, wait," the X5 said, his breath steaming in the autumn air. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but Max, if they just wanna talk maybe we'd better hear 'em out."

"Then talk!" Max ordered. "You guys have one minute!"

"Not here," the sergeant said, his voice taking on an edge. "I have orders to bring X5-494 in for questioning at one of our security stations."

"You're not taking Alec anywhere," Max said, her own voice now as cold as the weather.

"Max," Alec said under his breath so only she could hear. "I'm standin' right here. Then louder, "I'm not goin' anywhere.".

Alec knew full well that people who were taken to NSA "security stations" usually didn't return. It was the government's way of secretly eliminating problems without having to bother with pesky legal proceedings. However, it was a distinction usually reserved for suspected terrorists, would-be assassins, and other major blights on society. So far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of attention -- at least not lately.

"Yes," Allan said firmly. "You are. Men!"

Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

Guns were brought to bear (one of them on Joshua), and Max's face paled. However, behind them came the sound of more arms being cocked. The two X5 leaders didn't need to turn around to know that there were now at least a dozen TC residents taking aim on the NSA group.

Max smiled. Alec smirked.

"Sergeant Allan," she said, "I think you and your men had better just turn around and walk away from this one. If you don't, you're all going to die."

"We'll take you down with us," Allan said, holding his ground like the good soldier he was, keeping his own gun aimed directly at TC's leader.

"I thought your orders were to bring Alec in for questioning," Max said quietly ... reasonably. "What good's he to you if he's dead?" She allowed a pouty look to wipe away the smile. "What we have here, gentlemen, is called a stand-off."

"If you wanna ask me somethin'," Alec said from where he was in position on Max's right with the Glock now in his gun hand, "go through Colonel Lydecker at New Manticore."

Max glanced at him, one eyebrow rising in surprise. "You sure you wanna say that?" she said low under her breath.

"It's called pullin' rank, Maxie," Alec said. "Manticore purely hates the NSA. No way in hell will 'Deck let 'em have one of his kids, and he's got the clout to get these bozos off my back."

Max nodded. "Like the man said, talk to Lydecker!" she shouted.

Sergeant Allan looked up and around at all of the guns pointed at his squad. His intimidation plan had obviously failed, and he apparently wasn't eager to use deadly force -- at least not for round one.

"We'll be back," he said curtly, motioning for his men to lower their weapons. Then the squad did an about-face and headed for the black unmarked van that had brought them.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"This isn't good," Alec said under his breath.

"No, it isn't," Max agreed, standing tall as their leader and regarding the core crew of transgenics seated around the big oak table where they often held strategy sessions. "One more time, Alec. What'd you do to get the NSA on your tail?"

Alec, a "taken aback" expression in his eyes, spread hands wide in innocence. "Nothin'. Max, I swear, I don't know what they want with me."

"Maybe it has something to do with old Manticore," Dix suggested.

"A past mission?" Mole said. "Alec, you were one of the elite assassins, weren't you, after you stint in a combat platoon? Got all that special education and training? That meant you were assigned the juiciest details -- the stuff the high-up muckety-mucks wanted kept secret. Could be the NSA is just lookin' for an additional debrief."

"Possible," Max agreed.

However, her tone of voice was still skeptical. She might love Alec more than life itself, but she was no starry-eyed romantic when it came to 494's nature. Her X5 sex partner was a natural-born liar who had gotten himself into (and, granted, most of the time out of) more trouble in his short lifetime than anyone else she'd ever known. He was egotistical, sly, guileful, and exceedingly unpredictable, not to mention endowed with a charismatic persuasive personality that was a lethal weapon unto itself. Even she occasionally fell for the (sometimes) mock sincerity in those big beautiful eyes of his, or that charming boyish smile.

But Max also knew that, underneath the cocky ego and sarcastic facade, Alec was above all else loyal to his brothers and sisters in TC. He wouldn't hold back information if it was putting them all in danger.

"Think, Alec," she said firmly, placing both hands palms down on the table.

"I am thinking," he declared, that handsome brow furrowing. "And I'm comin' up with nothin'. Max," He shook his head, a lock of dark blond hair falling into his eyes that he raked back with his fingers. "I've got no idea what the NSA wants."

Max sighed heavily, and made her decision. "Come on," she said, motioning to him with her hand. "We've got no choice."

"No choice?" Alec said, not understanding.

"Time to pay the Devil a visit. He's the only one with the connections to find out what's going on."

"I don't like that we're relying so much on Lydecker lately, Max," Dix said quietly, regarding her steadily through the monocle of his one good eye -- not exactly arguing, but making his worries known.

Luke, seated next to his best friend and partner, nodded his little grey head, agreeing. "Lydecker's been all sweetness and light lately, guys," he said. "But not so long ago he tried his damnedest to blow you two apart."

The transhuman was referring to Lydecker's fairly recent attempt to drive a wedge between TC's two leaders, breaking Max away from Alec so New Manticore could exert more control over the transgenic community. His plan to have Devon replace Alec as Max's mate had failed -- but the events had left everyone wary and on edge with regards to the colonel.

"Lydecker can't be trusted," Joshua snarled, speaking for the first time.

"I know he can't, big guy," Alec said, standing and putting a hand on the dog man's shoulder. "But we need information, and chances are he's got it."

"I'll protect Alec," Joshua declared, looking down at his best friend with soulful blue eyes.

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

Max watched the two transgenics, touched in spite of the gravity of the situation by the obvious bond between them. Joshua had long ago proclaimed himself her bodyguard, but the fact he'd extend that duty to Alec was telling.

"And I'll help," Mole said quietly, also standing.

Alec looked around the table, at all his friends ... obviously moved by their willingness to come to his aide. However, he was a practical kind of guy -- a soldier -- and he knew what had to be done.

"Lydecker's the way to go, guys," he said. "First, we try to defuse this situation at the source. But if things get out of hand, then by all means do the bodyguard thing. Protect my ass for all its worth." He grinned, the last said as he looked at Max.

"What he said," Max agreed softly, briefly returning the smile. "Now, we need to get over to Lydecker's office. Good thing the colonel is in town this week."

*****

"You heard?" Max said, her breath a vapor in the frigid room. Standing in front of Colonel Donald Lydecker's desk, she hugged herself with her arms for warmth. The man's Seattle office was always freezing -- a reflection of its occupant's personality she supposed -- either that or the New Manticore budget was too miserly to allow the installation of proper heating.

Alec, however, seemed to be unaffected by the nippy temperature (of either the office or the colonel). Standing tall beside her, his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his grey leather jacket, but other than that he apparently didn't mind the cold.

"I heard," Lydecker said. Steepling his fingers, he spoke to Max, but his eyes were on Alec.

"So," Max persisted. "You know anything about why the NSA wants to roast my boy's chestnuts on the open fire?"

"We're still in the Christmas spirit, I see," Lydecker said, a faint smile touching lips that were usually drawn in a hard line.

"Ho, ho, ho," Alec said humorously, speaking for the first time. "What's goin' on 'Deck?"

"Don't take aim at me with those eyes," Lydecker admonished. "Christ, I get tired of feeling like a target whenever I'm around you kids."

"Maybe that's 'cause we're weapons and you're the enemy," Max said nastily. "Spill it! What's going on?"

"I'm not your enemy today," Lydecker said, the hard smile softening slightly. "In fact, I'm probably his only friend in this." He regarded Alec with eyebrows raised.

"I'm waiting," Alec said.

Alec, Max, and Colonel Donald Lydecker Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum & Eyes Only

Lydecker shook his head in exasperation at the X5s' attitudes, then, with a heavy sigh, reached into a lower desk drawer and took out a disc. "This cost me a month's budget in bribes to get hold of," he said as he inserted the CD into his computer, "and it's only a partial recording, but those NSA clowns have nothing to do with Manticore, and I don't like them sniffing around my 'material' any more than you do."

"Well, speaking as some of your 'material'," Alec drawled, "I'd hafta agree. What's on the disc?"

"A mission," Lydecker said. "One of yours."

"Berrisford?" Alec guessed, swallowing hard as his heart rate increased.

"Thankfully no," Lydecker said sarcastically. "Although you botched that one so badly by all rights it ought to come back to haunt you."

"Already did," the X5 said, glancing at Max.

"If this isn't connected to Alec's only long term mission, then what's going on?" Max said. She shook her head. "He wasn't deployed for any of the heavy stuff, was he? I mean before. He never took orders out of Quantico ... wasn't with the Arizona group."

"Watch," Lydecker said, pressing "play" on the keyboard as both X5s came around the desk to look over his shoulder at the screen.

They saw grainy black and white footage of a bedroom ... a heavy set man asleep.

"March, 2018," Lydecker said. "General Onan Sharise. Military commander of the Syrian army." He glanced up at Alec. "Any of this ring a bell?"

Alec shook his head slightly, watching the screen closely as a figure in black using a crow bar pried open the window and climbed into the room. Sharise woke up, reached beneath his pillow, drew out a pistol and fired into the dark.

"Ouch," Alec said under his breath as the X5 -- because it obviously was an X5 or else Lydecker wouldn't be showing them this -- rocked back from the impact, clutching his side, then raised his own weapon and put a bullet into the general's head -- black gore spattering the wall behind the bed as the man's skull exploded.

Alec's sudden intake of breath was barely noticeable above the hum of the computer, but Max heard ... and looked at him. "That was self defense," she said.

"Yeah," 494 said quietly. "On Sharise's part. Unless you think that X5 crawled through the window 'cause he was lookin' for love in all the wrong places." He crossed arms in front of his chest.

Max raised an eyebrow and glanced at the colonel. "What's the point of all this?" she asked.

"Keep watching," Lydecker admonished her.

The X5, still holding his side and in obvious pain, was about to exit the same way he came in when suddenly another figure showed on the screen, stepping out of the shadows on the left, perhaps having been in an adjoining room.

The Manticore assassin raised his gun again, but didn't fire, instead appearing to listen as the third party spoke a few words. Then the X5 nodded, turned, limped to the window, and jumped.

"Just curious," Alec said. "But how far of a drop was that?"

"Two stories," Lydecker said. "And you landed just fine. Luckily, you were able to avoid capture and, even though you had a bullet buried beneath your ribs, made it to the retrieval point." He glanced down at a document that had been on his desk. "You only got a C plus for the overall mission, however. You should have been able to avoid that gunshot. Although at least you didn't have to resort to using the cyanide pill -- a contingency built into this mission in case you were captured."

Alec was staring at the blank computer screen.

"Alec?" Max said.

"This is what the NSA's after," Lydecker said. "Details of this mission. My guess is they want to know who that was in the room after you shot Sharise."

"So, just tell them what they want to know and be done with it," Max said to her mate. "It's not like you need to keep Manticore secrets any more."

Alec was being very quiet -- an unusual state for the normally high verbal X5.

"Alec?" Max said his name again, reaching out to touch his hand. "What is it? Look, you were under orders. You had no choice. I know there are things you don't like to remember about Manticore ... the killing ... but I understand. You don't have to--"

Alec held up a hand, silencing her. Then he slowly turned and looked at the colonel, his hazel-green eyes intense. "We've got a problem," he said. "A big problem."

"I know we do, son," Lydecker agreed. "And I honestly don't know what to do about it."

"What are you talking about?" Max jumped in. "Will someone tell me what's going on?"

"What's going on is that 494 has no memory of this mission," the colonel said. "Right?"

Alec nodded, his eyes wide and a little bit fearful as the wheels of his mind spun, trying to come up with memories that just weren't there. "Maybe that wasn't me afterall," he tried. "Maybe ... maybe the info's mislabeled, either accidentally or on purpose."

"You don't remember this mission at all?" Max said, finding that rather absurd. "How could you forget killing someone, Alec? Or being shot?"

Alec shrugged helplessly. "Good question."

Lydecker was studying the written mission report. "I was your handler on this job," he said. "But unfortunately, I was out of the country when you returned and your debrief was with Frank Sandoval. There's a note here at the bottom of the report that says you were ordered into psy-ops the day after your return for quote, memory modification, unquote, due to supposedly observing highly classified data while prepping for the mission. Sandoval's name isn't listed anywhere as having issued the order, but it was him, not me. And I don't know why because so far as I know there wasn't anything 'highly classified' about the data you reviewed for the hit."

"Memory modification?" Max said. "What the hell does that mean?" She took hold of Alec's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, an act he was grateful for because he was starting to get scared.

"It means the lab boys in psy-ops pumped you full of neural inhibiting drugs and brought in the tele-coercion team," Lydecker said. "They essentially erased your short term memory -- about a week of it most likely."

Alec's stomach felt funny, but he was determined to not let the colonel know how upset he was. "So," he said. "Manticore fucked with my memory ... made me forget a mission." He cocked an eyebrow at Lydecker. "One question. If the psy-op witch doctors could do that, why didn't they make me forget about Rachel after the Berrisford job went sideways?"

"Because they didn't want you to forget her," Max said, answering before the colonel could. "They wanted you to remember her, but with pain, so you'd never make the same mistake again ... never fall in love again ..."

"True," Lydecker said softly. "The Sharise mission was a whole other deal. This had nothing to do with your performance, 494. Someone at Manticore ... Sandoval most likely ... was trying to hide the identity of the person in that room. It was obviously someone you knew from Manticore ... someone you would take orders from. My guess is that now the NSA wants to know that person's identity, and they'll be willing to go to some pretty drastic lengths to make you talk."

"But I don't remember," Alec said. "Don't they know that?"

"Son," the colonel said grimly. "Do you think that matters to them? Or that you'd willingly tell them if you could? They'll haul you off somewhere and make you remember, using whatever means they have to."

Colonel Donald Lydecker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"My God," Max said, her grip on Alec's hand tightening protectively.

"Exactly," Lydecker said, obviously knowing what she was thinking. "And quite honestly, I don't know how to stop them. This is over my head in the command chain. You see, I've been given orders too."

A door in the back of the office suddenly opened, and Max and Alec looked up to see Sergeant Allan standing there with his team.

"I'm sorry, son," Lydecker said, rising from his desk chair and stepping out of the line of fire.

"No!" Max screamed.

But it was too late as a pair of high potency darts zinged through the air, the needles burying themselves in X5 meat even as the two transgenics sprang.

*****

Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

When Max woke up, she was still lying on the floor in Lydecker's office. Raising her aching head, fighting nausea, she looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Alec, of course, was gone.

"I'm sorry," the colonel said once more, his hoarse voice surprisingly sincere as he knelt beside her. "But I had no choice. If I hadn't turned him over to the Agency, all of New Manticore would have been in danger."

Once, Max would have attacked the man for his treachery, rounding on him ... beating him with her fists ... perhaps even killing him. However, she'd learned by now that Lydecker was a treacherous ally, but an ally nonetheless.

"Where'd they take him?" she asked thickly, trying to focus bleary eyes. Her mouth felt like cotton, and had an odd bitter taste. She recognized the drug ... a powerful knock-out sedative.

"A black-ops prison facility equipped for deep interrogation," Lydecker replied. Standing, he offered a hand that she ignored. Instead, Max climbed stiffly to her feet, reaching out to brace herself with a hand against the wall as her head spun.

"What will they do to him?" she asked, although she already knew the answer to that.

Colonel Donald Lydecker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

Lydecker wasn't one to mince words. "Rip his mind and body apart until they find what they're after. Even if he survives, he won't be Alec any more when they're through with him. What's left will only be of use to Stendahl's cyborg program. In fact, I hear Davis has already put in a requisition with the NSA for X5-494's remains."

Max flinched visibly, suddenly feeling Alec's hands sliding over her naked body like they had in the shower that morning ... his warm lips nibbling the nape of her neck ... kissing her bar code ... her nipples. No way in hell were they going to take that away from her. Take him ...

"I can't lose him," she said, staring through the office's single window, her eyes losing focus as she watched the world go by outside through the dirty pane -- her world ... Alec's world ...

Without looking at the colonel, she said, "I know why you betrayed us, Donald, but I also know where your real loyalties lie -- with your kids. Will you help me get him back?"

"I thought you might ask that," Lydecker said. He put a hand on her shoulder.

Max still didn't turn around.

"Officially, my hands are tied."

"And unofficially?"

"There might be a way. I know someone who could help. But it's going to be expensive."

"I don't care what it costs," Max said firmly, a faint flare of hope igniting in her heart as she finally looked back at the colonel. "You know I have the bodies to manage an extraction ... the trained men. But I need Alec's location, the layout of where they're holding him, and I need transportation ... better weapons ..." Her voice trailed off.

"Even if you get Alec back," the colonel cautioned, "it's not going to do any good unless the NSA gets their information. They'll just keep coming after him."

"Somehow I'll find out who that was in the room," Max declared. She had a thought. "Maybe Dix and Luke could clear up that photograph better than the NSA did. Maybe there's evidence there that was missed."

"Max, you're not being practical," the older man said. "The best experts in the government couldn't do anything with that video."

"Or maybe I can help Alec remember," she rambled on, "without him being hurt in the process." She raised her eyes to the colonel. "What exactly did you do to him back in '18? To make him forget?"

"Sandoval supervised the procedure," Lydecker said. "I read the report at the time. As I recall, he was administered limbic inhibiting drugs by I.V., then when 494 was in a hypnotic state we brought in a tele-coercionist."

"Like Mia," Max said.

Lydecker's brows drew down in puzzlement, but she didn't explain.

"So," Max continued, "Alec was made to forget all about that particular mission ... that it even happened."

"It would have been hard to selectively delete a single event of his short-term memory," Lydecker said. "So I imagine they removed a piece of time from his mind -- those few days."

"But he was wounded," Max said. "Wouldn't he have wondered who shot him?"

"A plausible story was probably fed to him while he was under the drugs, something vague perhaps, like a training accident. He healed quickly, and moved on. Alec also knew better than to ask questions while at Manticore. Max," Lydecker said, his voice deadly serious. "If the procedure hadn't been successful, I imagine Sandoval would have had 494 put down. That memory erasure saved your boy's life."

"It was barbaric," Max spat. "Taking away someone's memory like deleting a program on a computer." She sighed heavily. "I suppose this goes back to Sandoval, doesn't it?"

Lydecker nodded. "And he's dead ... his files destroyed by White's people."

"Which means it's all up to Alec now," Max said softly, once again looking out the window. "But one way or another, I'm going to get him back."

*****

Alec swam out of the blackness into a world of loud noise and vibration, his cheek resting against cold metal, his hands and feet tethered. Opening his eyes slowly, all he could see was the dark grey of a vinyl seat cushion, but from what his senses told him he was in the air -- in a helicopter.

Not wanting to be hit with another sedative, he was very careful to stay still. He could be patient, inhumanly so. Sooner or later he would get his chance.

Half an hour later he the chopper began to descend.

"It's awake!" a black-uniformed soldier declared as rough hands pulled him upright. A needle appeared, and Alec braced himself.

"No!" a new voice commanded. "They want to question him right away, and they need him coherent. No more drugs! But be careful. He's a lot more dangerous than he looks."

"Come on!" the soldier snarled, dragging the X5 out of the helicopter. If they'd undone the chains on his ankles, Alec might have tried to fight, but they left him to shuffle along, his hands behind his back and his feet shackled, giving him no opening.

Looking up into the deepening twilight, the transgenic saw bright stars twinkling overhead which meant they were far from any source of artificial light ... any city. There was sand underfoot, and a dry cold wind ruffling his hair, the dusty desert smell unmistakable. Somewhere out west probably ... Nevada maybe ... Arizona? It had been late morning when he and Max were ambushed in Lydecker's office. The dusk told him many hours had passed, which meant he could be almost anywhere.

Up ahead a fortress loomed, a stark, sprawling four-story stone building with a formidable entryway, and gun turrets on every corner. Searchlights strobed the grounds, lighting up 12-foot high fences topped by concertina wire, making the prison look like some huge beast contained within a cage.

Like a sacrifice led to slaughter, the soldiers dragged the X5 prisoner into that animal's maw -- through massive double metal doors.

And as those heavy panels slammed closed behind him -- shutting him off from the outside world -- Alec had a horrible feeling that he might never see the stars overhead, or Max, again.

*****

"So," Alec said cheerfully when guards pushed him into a seat in what had to be the prison warden's office. "Are you the new bad guy in my life?"

The fifty-something paper-pusher behind the desk peered at him through watery eyes and thick-lensed glasses, his portly physique and pale skin declaring that he probably spent most of his waking hours in a chair.

"No," a voice said from behind Alec. "I am."

Alec turned around as best he could in his trussed state, looking up to see a middle-aged man dressed in a dark understated suit and shiny leather shoes framed in the doorway. He recognized the type -- Committee ... Agency ... Black Ops ... This guy positively reeked of undercover conspiracies and Homeland Security enforcement, probably a former field agent or section director who'd climbed the ladder of success within the government and who now thought he was some sort of god.

His years at Manticore had taught the X5 when to keep his mouth shut, and this was definitely one of those times. Alec said nothing.

The Agency Man

Moving around to in front of the prisoner, hands clasped behind his back, the Man looked Alec up and down in a way that was far more than vaguely insulting. "I don't suppose this can be done the easy way," he said quietly.

"I really don't remember," Alec said levelly. "I'd tell you what you want to know if I could. I've got no loyalty to Manticore any more -- no reason to protect their dirty little secrets--"

The backhand that struck the X5 in the mouth was delivered with all the power The Man could muster. Alec's head snapped sideways, teeth cutting into the inside of his mouth, his lip bursting open, and blood spraying like spit down the front of his jacket.

So much for reason, Alec thought as the numbness in his face turned to a sharp throb and the acrid taste of blood trickled down the back of his throat.

"Strip search him, then take him to his cell," The Man ordered. "The doctor will be ready for his first session in an hour."

*****

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

Alec knew all about pain. Manticore had taught him that as well.

He also knew about false hope.

He sat on the metal bench in his cell, nursing his lip and waiting, trying not to think ... to not wish for what couldn't happen. This mess he was in was beyond what Max could fix ... beyond Lydecker, too, most likely. He knew the Committee, or an even higher entity, had probably ordered the colonel to turn him in, which meant 'Deck's hands were tied on this one. There'd be no rescue.

And beyond Lydecker, the transgenics of Terminal City really didn't have any friends -- not in places that counted.

The X5 heard footsteps approaching. Here it comes. Deliberately, he sat up straighter, held chin high.

The armed guards said nothing, merely opened the cell door and motioned him into the corridor. Although the chains had been removed, Alec was very aware of the numerous Taser guns pointed at him. They wouldn't kill him, not yet. What was locked inside his head was too valuable. However, they'd have no compunction whatsoever about knocking him cold and dragging him ignominiously to the torture chamber.

Because torture was what it would be. An old hand at being both interrogator and interrogatee, Alec knew the drill. Agony first, then questions followed by more agony. When that didn't shake loose his memories they'd then most likely turn to more barbaric sciences ... extreme drugs, psychosis inducing hypnosis, direct neural stimulation via invasive brain surgery ...

It wasn't a pretty picture. There wouldn't be much of "Alec" left when they were done ... They might, or might not, get their answers out of him, but when it was over he'd be destroyed either way.

The X5 hesitated just a moment in the doorway of the operating theater, a cold sterile room with blinding white walls and floor. The sight of the steel table beneath halogen lights waiting to embrace his body roused a primitive urge within him to run.

But there was nowhere to flee.

Briefly, the X5 wondered how many he could kill before they dropped him with the Tasers -- two ... maybe three ... Balling hands into fists, he tensed, preparing to go down fighting--

"Don't try it," a cool voice spoke from behind him.

Alec's head whipped around and he found himself staring into a pair of pale grey eyes as icy as a Wyoming winter.

"We can do this with a minimum of suffering on your part, but if you cause trouble, I will make you wish you'd never been born."

Prison Doctor

Tall, white-haired, bearded, stoop-shouldered, thin to the point of gauntness, and with a huge scar disfiguring the side of his face, the man who'd spoken wore a white lab coat labeling him as a doctor, and a high ranking one at that. Those bleak eyes beneath drooping lids held a spark of dangerous intelligence -- and power.

"I already wish I'd never been born," Alec said levelly.

The Taser that hit the X5 in the side delivered enough voltage to bring him to his knees, but not knock him completely out. Fighting like the cat he part was, Alec lashed out viciously, but in the end -- weakened by the electric jolt -- his efforts were futile. Metal clamps closed painfully tight around ankles, wrists, and midsection as he was spread, still thrashing, on the operating table.

"There's no use delaying the inevitable," the doctor said, his disfigured face totally devoid of expression as he fastened a metal band around the X5's forehead. Cold fingers briefly caressed Alec's beard stubbled cheek, then moved lower, unzipping the front of the prison jump suit, the sound oddly loud in the enclosed atmosphere of the torture suite. The young transgenic shivered as icy air and those chilly hands stroked his bare sweating torso.

Electrodes were attached, and Alec heard the whine of the generator. He knew full well what was coming, and he also knew there was nothing he could do about it except scream.

"Who was in Sharise's room that night?" the doctor asked, his voice soft and oddly reasonable, as if they were having a conversation over dinner.

"Sandoval," Alec said, speaking quickly, tossing out the best lie he had. "Sandoval was making a deal with Sharise. That's why he ordered my memory erased, so I couldn't tell anyone. Sandoval was a traitor."

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

The electric jolt that shot through his groin was so searing the X5 couldn't even manage that scream. His back arching on the table, every muscle in his body rigid, his eyes simply rolled back in his head. And when the current was shut down, he lay limp and twitching, semi-conscious, his mind rattling around inside his skull, hysterically seeking a place to flee.

"I think not," the doctor said, the voice seeming to come from very far away. "Frank Sandoval has already been investigated. He had an airtight alibi for that night. Don't try to lie again."

The generator's whine peaked.

"One more time. Who was in the room that night?"

"I. Can't. Remember," Alec gasped.

The second jolt did it for him -- what Alec knew would happen and what this idiot doctor (who didn't know shit about X5s) hadn't figured on. It was his one sure way out of torture every time, a curse of his gene-spliced body that right now was a blessing.

He welcomed the seizure with immense relief, embracing the sparks and lightening bolts as they overwhelmed his vision and the roar of chaos as the neurons in his flawed brain fired out of control. The blackness he fell into was complete.

Alec had found his hiding place at last -- a place where absolutely no one could follow.

*****

Mole Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"What's goin' on, Max?" Mole asked the moment she set foot in TC's control room. The lizard man had been taking his turn at monitor duty, and was sitting back in one of the beaten-up swivel desk chairs with booted feet propped on a scarred desk top. His eyes flickered to the door. "And where the hell's Alec?"

"The NSA got him," Max said, somehow managing to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Lydecker turned him in."

"Shithead bastard!" Mole spat, springing to his feet and snatching up a rifle. "I always said he couldn't be trusted! But no, you wouldn't listen to me. Come on! We'll get him back!"

"Shut up!" Max snapped. "And sit down! Of course Alec and I knew we couldn't trust 'Deck. We just didn't think he'd betray us so openly." Her tone of voice softened. "Besides, the colonel didn't have much of a choice either. The NSA knew he had access to us, and they've got their hand around Manticore's throat. It was either Alec, or all the rest of us would have suffered the consequences."

"Can I kill him?" Mole asked eagerly, removing the cigar stub from his mouth and ignoring the part about Lydecker having no choice.

"No," Max said with a huge sigh. "We're going to need him. He told me they took Alec to a black-ops prison facility, but he doesn't know the location. However, I think there's someone who does."

"Who?" Mole asked.

"I can't tell you that," Max said. "But know that when I have the info, I want you and Joshua to be ready to move. We're going to need a commando team."

"We are rescuin' our boy then?" Mole said, his lips peeling back in a sharp-toothed grin.

"Absolutely," Max said, dark hair cascading around her shoulders as she nodded in determination. "Fill Joshua in. I should be back within twelve hours."

"Max," Mole said, catching hold of her arm as she went to pass him in the door. "Those NSA fuckers don't care how pretty Alec is. They'll tear him to pieces to get what they want."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Mole," Max said. "All we can do is get him out of there -- wherever there is -- before they start ripping."

*****

Sydney Bristow Photo courtesy of Valjean, Jensen Ackles Museum, & Alias Boards

"I know exactly where they took him, and I know exactly what they're going to do to him."

Max went limp with relief. They were the words she wanted to hear.

Sydney Bristow came around the corner of her desk and walked to the large book case that took up the east wall of her office. Pressing a panel, a hidden door swung open revealing a safe. The CIA director smiled as she worked the combination, apparently reading the X5's mind. "I don't care if you see the numbers," she said. "It's not as if you couldn't break into this place anytime you wanted to anyway."

She rummaged inside the safe a moment, and pulled out a file.

"The computer records were lost in The Pulse," Sydney said as she went back to her desk. "But luckily I kept hard copies."

Max moved to the other woman's shoulder and looked down at the contents of the file -- an aerial photograph of a desolate-looking prison facility and a series of blueprints."

"Area 47," she said. "It's in the Nevada desert, about a hundred miles north of Reno on an abandoned military base." She took a deep breath. "I spent some time there once, under circumstances similar to Alec's. They have ... techniques ... to help retrieve memories."

"Techniques?"

"Barbaric ones. First they'll torture him, then when that doesn't get them what they want they'll use invasive brain surgery, trying to stimulate portions of Alec's mind to make him remember."

"Did you--? Max began. "I mean, did they--?"

"They hurt me there," Sydney said quietly. "But I was rescued before there was permanent damage."

"Permanent damage?"

"Max, if the doctors in that prison go at Alec, he'll be left dead or worse. Even a transgenic can't recover from the stuff they'll do to him."

Sydney handed her the photo and the blueprints. "You're going to need lots of firepower and a crack team," she said.

"Already got that covered," Max replied, studying the photo.

"A helicopter?" Sydney pressed. "And you'll also need to hack into the military computer systems to get the codes."

Max's eyebrows shot up at that. "What codes?"

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"Lockdown codes," the CIA director said. "It's how my father and friends got me out. They hacked into the military system and retrieved codes that caused the prison doors to shut in an emergency lockdown procedure, trapping most of the guards. Then they used the codes to open doors while they searched for me. Collateral damage was kept to a minimum that way too ..." Her voices trailed off.

"I don't give a damn about collateral damage," Max said. "But I see your point about it being wise to contain the guards. I'll ask Dix to work on it."

"Max," Sydney said as the other woman started to leave. "When you get Alec back ... if he wants to retrieve those memories ... I know another way."

"A safe way?"

"Not exactly," Sydney admitted. "But it's a non-invasive technique that your guy could probably handle. If you want, I can put you in touch with the son of the scientist who invented the procedure. He'll help you if I ask him to."

"Maybe later," Max said, anxious to get back to Terminal City with the blueprints and have Dix get to work on hacking the codes. Los Angeles was only an hour's flight from Seattle, but every minute counted right now.

"Good luck," Sydney said with a small smile of encouragement. "And about Alec ... just bring the guy back alive and in one piece, okay?"

"Plan to," Max replied levelly. "And, Sydney ... thank you."

Now, Alec had a chance.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

As soon as she got back to Terminal City and conferred with the gang, Max knew she had two really big problems.

The first -- well intentions aside -- was that she, Mole, and Joshua, transgenics or not, just wouldn't be enough manpower to storm a high security prison. Then there was also the small matter of acquiring transportation that could get them in and out of the area in a hurry.

Sitting down at the big oak table she and her inner circle used as a conference place, Max buried her face in her arms and tried to hold back the tears. "It's too risky," she said to Mole who'd followed her into the nearly deserted control room. (The hour was late, and even Dix had gone to bed leaving Luke by himself on the night shift.) I can't ask our people to take this big of a chance for the sake of one soldier."

"It's not just one soldier, Max," Mole said, laying a scaled hand on her shoulder. "It's Alec."

"Alec's just a guy," the X5 sighed. She glanced up at Mole, a small smile playing on her lips, "only don't ever tell him I said that. His ego couldn't take it."

"Hey," Mole admonished her. "Mr. Smart Ass got over his 'I'm God's gift to women' complex a long time ago Max -- 'bout the time he hooked up with you in fact." The lizard man was quiet for a moment as he relit his cigar. Then ... "You know, don't you, that he moved Heaven and earth to get you back from the Congo ... killed a bunch of people too, not that they didn't deserve it."

Max flipped strands of long dark hair out of the way and rubbed bleary eyes. "I know what he'd do," she said softly. "And it wouldn't necessarily be the right thing. I'm the leader here. I can't put my personal feelings ahead of the good of the community."

"Like hell you can't, sister," Mole said, his voice chiding. "Max ... Alec isn't just important to you. He's pretty much irreplaceable to us. X5s ... our best and brightest ... are getting scarce in the world, and everyone knows Alec's the one responsible for Terminal City becoming a money-making venture. If it weren't for him, we'd be nothing but a bunch of thieves and mercenaries held at gunpoint by the military -- or worse."

"I love him, Mole," Max said, staring straight ahead at a bank of computer monitors. "Alec's value to the community aside, I miss him so much I wanna die. And the thought of those NSA monsters hurting him ..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"I know a guy who knows a guy who has connections to get us a Blackhawk chopper," Mole said levelly. He took a long drag on his cigar and blew smoke into the air. "I also know an X5 in here who can fly the bird for us. Kade will help--"

"Kade's pregnant," Max said.

Mole rolled his eyes. "Well then at least her loverboy, Hampton, will lend a hand. He was a squad leader back at Manticore and is tough as nails -- tougher even than Alec."

"That would make five, including the pilot," Max said.

"And the chopper won't hold anymore once we get Alec so there's your team," Mole replied easily. But then his lizard eyes narrowed. "We're gonna need cash though, Max. Lots of it."

"How much?"

"A million," Mole said, not mincing words. "At least. The chopper's gonna cost around nine hundred to lease. I'd say steal it, but that would take a whole other plan and we don't have time. You got that kind of cash handy, Max?"

"No," she said. "But I know where I can get it, first thing in the morning." She sighed heavily again, the dark circles under her eyes looking like bruises in the half-light of the control room. "But we've got a second problem," she said. "The codes to the prison ... Dix told me he can't hack them. And without the codes this mission is doomed. There's no way we can penetrate deep enough to reach where Alec's being held."

"Ask Logan," a voice said from behind her.

Joshua Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Max turned around and stared at Joshua who'd quietly positioned himself in the doorway.

"Logan?" Mole snorted. "Yeah, like Cale would help the guy who stole his girl."

"Alec didn't steal me from anyone," Max snapped.

"Sorry," the lizard man muttered. "But that's what your ex and everyone else thinks, no matter how you try 'n sugarcoat what happened. All I'm sayin' is that Cale has no reason to help Alec -- probably still wants the guy dead in fact."

Max hated the way this was going down. She felt like she was being driven into a trap. But there didn't seem to be many alternatives left.

"I need to talk to Logan anyway," she said, standing up, collecting her thoughts as she picked up her black leather jacket from off the end of the table.

"I'll go with you," Joshua said, falling into step behind her as she left the control room and headed out into the garage area and her beloved Ninja.

"Joshua, you don't have to--"

"Logan will listen to me, even if he won't listen to you," the dog man said firmly.

Max was too tired to argue.

*****

Logan Cale Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"A million dollars?" Logan said, his voice skeptical, but at least not incredulous. "You want me to loan you a million dollars? For what, Max?"

"That's none of your business," Max said evenly.

"It is if it's my money," Eyes Only returned.

Max threw a paper down on his desk. "And here's your collateral" she said. "The deed to the mall."

"You just paid me off for this," Logan said. "Why the need to go back in debt?"

"It's personal," Max said stiffly.

Joshua, standing silently beside her, shuffled his feet.

"I also need another favor," the X5 said, the words difficult to force out of her mouth.

Logan merely raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes sparkling with what looked suspiciously like humor behind the lenses of his glasses. "A favor? From me?"

"I need the security access codes to the Marine prison located on an abandoned base near Reno, Nevada."

"Prison access codes?" Logan said, again parroting her words. "And why, may I ask, do you need that information?" He made a show of looking behind her toward the door. "This wouldn't, by any chance, have to do with Alec would it? The lovable X5 rogue who stole my girl."

"He didn't steal me, Logan," Max said. "We were through before me and Alec ever hooked up."

"Of course we were," Cale said lightly. He threw the deed back at her. "No deal, Max. If Alec's in a military prison I say great ... that it's where he belongs."

"They're going to torture him," Max said quietly, trying to keep her voice emotionless.

Logan merely smiled ... and quite suddenly Max realized that she now hated the man she'd once loved more than life itself.

"Please," she said, gritting her teeth at having to beg. "I'll do anything you want ... pay you anything ... just help me get him back before they tear him apart."

"Anything?" Logan said teasingly.

Joshua growled, breaking his silence at last.

"What do you want?" Max said. "In return for helping me?"

"You."

She shook her head. "Logan ... I'll pay you two million ... three million ... I'll get the money somewhere else ... but don't ask me to--"

"I want you back, Max -- in my house ... in my life ... in my bed. It's the only deal I'll make with you."

"Alec will kill you," she whispered.

"Not if you tell him it was your choice," Logan said. "That you've decided to return to your true love."

Max turned and looked up at Joshua, her dark eyes blossoming with despair.

"Don't, Little Fella," Joshua said. "We'll find another way to save Alec."

"There is no other way," she said as her heart grew cold. Turning to Logan, she raised her chin in the air. "Give me the money and get me the codes and I'll do whatever you want."

"You'll tell Alec you don't love him any more?"

The lump in her throat was choking her, but Max nodded.

Logan reached into a desk drawer, took out a check book, and and began writing. When he was done, he handed her a draft for one million dollars.

"And the codes?" Max said stiffly as she accepted the check with a trembling hand.

Logan looked toward his bedroom. "I'm going to need a down payment from you first," he said.

"Max!" Joshua howled, grabbing her arm. "No! You can't do this to yourself! To Alec!"

"Wait here, Big Fella," she said, feeling as if the words were being spoken by someone else. Like an automaton, she walked toward the bedroom.

"That's all right," Logan said, standing, the whir of the exoskeleton humming in the room. "You've shown me you're willing, which is what I wanted. We'll arrange the actual payment later, when we both have plenty of time to make the event special."

Max cringed, but at the same time her heart was pounding with relief. Still, she had to add, "That's right. I forgot that it takes you ... awhile."

Logan's eyes narrowed, his lips thinning to a line. "Actually, it's because I'm expecting Asha," he said, his voice clipped. "We've reconciled recently, and I don't want there to be awkwardness." Then he smiled again. "You see, I really have ended up the winner after all. I've got you both now."

"Just get me the codes," Max said listlessly, refusing to be baited. "Before your girlfriend gets here."

Logan sat back down at his desk and began typing on the keyboard, the smile turning smug.

*****

The Agency Man

"What the hell's wrong with him?" the Man said, gesturing to the X5 prisoner lying on the floor of the cell. Other than an occasional tremor shivering along a limb, 494 was to all intents and purposes unconscious.

The doctor shot his superior a look. "I wasn't fully briefed on this specimen," he said, defending himself. "I should have been told about the flaw in the X5 series' brain chemistry."

"Just, bring him out of it so we can continue the interrogation," The Man spat.

"The phenobarbital/tryptophan cocktail we injected him with stopped his grand mal cycle," the doctor said. "But it's going to take time for his nervous system to realign itself.

"How long?"

"At least twenty-four hours, preferably forty-eight," the doctor said. "X5s are superhuman, but they're hardly indestructible. In fact, in some ways, they're extremely fragile -- on a genetic level that is."

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

"Just get that information out of his brain, even if you have to cut it out," The Man snarled. "I need to know who this soldier saw that night."

The doctor entered the cell, knelt beside the trembling young transgenic, took a pulse, then looked back at the senior officer. "He's weak, and the drugs are pulling him down as well as easing the seizures. He'd never survive the neuro surgery."

"I don't care if he survives!"

"I mean, his body won't survive the shock of the procedure necessary to apply the electrodes directly to the brain. He'll die before the neural stimulation can even begin. Give him the two days or else all you'll have is an X5 carcass and no information at all."

"One day," The Man said quietly. "This time tomorrow, I want him in that operating room with his skull split open and the information pouring out."

"It doesn't work like--"

"Just do it!"

*****

It was a moonless night -- which was just fine with Mole. The deeper the darkness, the better chance they had of pulling this mission off ... of getting Alec out of Hell alive.

Blowing a stream of smoke into the wind coming through the chopper window, the lizard man checked out the team. Max, his leader, was sitting quietly, staring at the dark landscape as it whizzed by below, lost in thoughts undoubtedly about him. Joshua, too, seemed contemplative, albeit looking a bit bizarre in a bullet proof vest and commando helmet. Only Hampton seemed at all cheerful, the tall handsome dark-haired X5 smiling as he studied the prison's blueprints, his teeth shining white between his mustache and goatee.

"Damn," Hampton said, speaking to his friend Joshua. "I never realized how much I missed this ... the action ... the teamwork."

"Yeah," Max said. "It's gonna be a real party. Just remember, this isn't a drill people. It's the real thing, and Alec's life depends on us being successful."

"Not to mention our own asses," Mole added.

"We're on approach," the pilot suddenly said, nodding to a group of lights shining like a glittering eye in the empty desert below. "Gimp," as he was called, was a red-haired X4 Max didn't know very well. Physically less impressive than his X5 descendants, and with a pronounced limp caused by a training accident, Mole had nevertheless insisted he could be counted on to do the job.

"In and out clean, people," Max shouted to be heard above the whir of the chopper blades as they descended. "Shoot to kill, no prisoners, no questions. We go straight for the main security station, lock the place down, then head for Alec."

"You sure he'll be in the medical wing?" Mole asked.

"I'm sure," Max said grimly, remembering what Sydney had told her about the procedures being performed at this place.

Dust swirled as the chopper settled into the courtyard of the prison, inside the high fences. A shrill alarm sounded, and soldiers began to pour from the building -- but not as many as Max had feared.

Hampton (X5)

With Hampton, Mole, and Joshua at her back, she leaped to the ground and blurred toward the main entrance, leaving it up to her men to lay down cover fire. A practically invisible target, she made it to the prison's front door and entered the code she'd memorized while the other X5 and the lizard man kept the guards pinned.

The sound of gears grinding as the metal panel slowly opened was music to her ears. Logan had come through for her -- held up his end of the bargain. Which meant, of course, she would have to hold up her end as well.

Max tore her mind away from that scenario. She couldn't think about it now. She had to think only about Alec ... saving Alec.

Joshua followed her closely as the sound of gunfire died down behind them, the soldiers in the courtyard either dead or having fled. The security panels were in the back of a room off the main corridor. Entering another code, she gained access, not even watching as Joshua dragged the guard over his desk and left him in a moaning heap on the floor.

Intent only on one thing, Max punched still more codes into the main system and watched intently as doors began to close all over the prison, locking the troops safely out of her way.

A few more keystrokes, and a glowing map showed her the corridor to the medical cell block, a quick check of the prisoner inventory indicating that an X5 was, indeed, housed there.

"I'm coming, baby," Max said under her breath as she vaulted over the desk. Grabbing Joshua, she ran out of the room, nodding to Mole and Hampton who'd been guarding the door.

"Joshua and I will get him," she said. "You two keep an eye on things here."

"Max!" Mole shouted, tossing her a submachine gun. "Don't need it," she returned, throwing it back to him.

"But--"

"I know what I'm doing," she admonished the lizard man. Then, gesturing to Joshua, "Follow me!"

The two transgenics made their way quickly through the prison, unlocking doors with the codes Logan had provided as they went. Twice they encountered resistance, and both times they were able to handle the soldiers, leaving nothing moving in their wake.

She found him lying on the floor in the furthest cell of the medical wing -- semi-conscious, his body bathed in sweat and racked with tremors -- but alive.

"Max," Joshua said, his voice tinged with horror. "They've hurt him."

"He's been through worse," Max said levelly as she cradled Alec's head against her breast and stroked hair out of his eyes. "Hey," she said softly. "Smart ass. Time to wake up. The Calvalry's here. You're bein' rescued."

"Max?" Alec mumbled. Hazel-green eyes darkened to black by fully dilated pupils opened and tried to focus on her face. Whatever they'd shot him up with, Max realized, had his autonomic nervous system on the fritz.

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

However, simply hearing her partner utter her name made Max's heart soar with relief. After Sydney's description of the gruesome methods this place employed to retrieve memories, her worst fear had been that she might find Alec alive -- but not Alec any more.

"They didn't do anything to him," she said, reassuring both herself and Joshua. Running fingers through 494's matted hair, she anxiously checked for signs of incisions or drill holes just to make sure -- and found none. "I'm in time," she half-sobbed, hugging her lover tightly. Alec's arms weakly embraced her in return.

"Max?" he murmured her name again. "Is this a dream?"

Joshua didn't understand. "They hurt him," he whimpered. "Alec's--"

"--gonna heal just fine," Max said firmly. "But they've got him drugged. He's weak as a baby and can't tell which end is up. Now help me get him out of here."

Scooping his friend up in his arms, Joshua carried Alec -- who'd fallen once again into unconsciousness -- back the way he and Max had just come, stepping over bodies as they went.

However, suddenly, a doctor with a large scar across his cheek was barring their way. "You can't have him," the man said, hands hanging loosely at his sides, and speaking with surprising calmness considering the carnage all around. "I'm not finished with him."

Max thought a moment how she'd just found Alec, lying on that cell floor ... what they'd been going to do to him ... And then she thought about all the pain Manticore scientists had inflicted on her as a child.

"You won't kill me," the doctor said. "I'm unarmed."

"Then get out of my--" Almost too late Max saw the Taser pistol the medic had hidden in the sleeve of his white lab coat. However, her transgenic hearing picked up the faint sound of the whine.

Prison Doctor

"I hate doctors!" Max shrieked as she launched her body into an aerial spinning kick that planted her booted foot firmly in the medic's face, fracturing his skull and dropping the man dead to the ground.

"Come on, Big Fella,! Max shouted to Joshua without so much as a backwards glance at her handiwork. "Let's blaze!"

When they reached the main desk, Mole and Hampton joined them, and together the five transgenics stole through the night to the waiting chopper as soldiers pounded futilely against locked doors throughout the prison facility.

Thirty seconds later they were in the air and headed for home.

Mission successful -- their brother saved.

*****

Dr. Brezzel's Warehouse Lab

Barefoot, wearing nothing but khakis and a grey t-shirt, Alec lay on the clear acrylic table, breathing quietly and controlling his heart rate the way Manticore had taught him. The overhead bank of lights were blinding, and he couldn't see much beyond the glare, but his other senses told him that Max was near, and that -- more than his training -- helped him to stay calm.

*****

A hundred feet away Max and Sydney Bristow conferred with Dr. Hale Brezzel, a grey-haired man in his middle forties who's surprisingly unlined face and casual dress spoke of someone who'd learned long ago how conquer the everyday stress of life. Son of Dr. Frank Brezzel -- the scientist who'd helped Sydney regain pieces of her own lost memory 20 years ago -- Hale (who bore a striking resemblance to his sire) had followed in his murdered father's footsteps by continuing his work.

"How old is he?" the doctor asked, his pleasant voice echoing slightly in the large warehouse lab facility. It had taken three plane connections and a four-hour drive to reach the place, which Max guessed made it a "secret location." Lydecker would be having fits that his two star X5s were MIA. However, the only way they would ever get the NSA off Alec's back was to retrieve the memory of that mission.

"Twenty-four," Max said. "Is this safe?" she added.

Dr. Hale Brezzel

"Relatively," Brezzel replied calmly as he adjusted sensor dials on the bank of equipment arrayed on the table in front of them. A series of shielded cables ran from the monitors out to the transparent table where Alec lay bathed in a pool of light like a star on center stage.

Max's hand clamped down on his wrist as she looked to Sydney. "You said this was safe," she hissed.

"I said it was non invasive," the CIA agent replied. "And it's a whole lot safer than what the NSA was trying to do to him."

"I can hear you, you know," Alec said in an annoyed tone of voice from across the room.

Brezzel looked at the women, a question in his eyes.

"Alec's got the ears of a Peruvian fruit bat," Sydney commented.

"Literally?" the doctor asked, serious.

Max rolled her eyes. "No. So far as we know there's just cat in our cocktail. But our hearing is a lot more acute than a human's."

"Your other senses, too?" the man asked. When Max didn't answer, he added, "Tell me. It could make a difference in the procedure."

"Eyesight," Sydney said quietly. "Balance, depth perception, I.Q., reflexes, strength, coordination, touch, taste, smell -- all enhanced. Did I leave anything out?" She looked to the other woman.

"Does his inflated ego count?" Max said sourly.

"The X5 supersoldier," Brezzel said, chuckling. "Made flesh." He regarded Alec lying on the table. "My father saw the original blueprints, you know, back in the late 80's. But genetics weren't his area of expertise, although he was once approached by the Manticore psych branch."

He picked up the file folder Sydney had provided and flipped through the pages, stopping when he came to a series of pictures -- Alec, younger ... and not looking too good having apparently been badly beaten, or possibly tortured. Max, peering over the doctor's shoulder, stared.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, speaking to Sydney.

"Your colonel provided it," the CIA agent replied. "He thought we might need some of Alec's Manticore medical information."

"Lydecker helped you?" Max said, surprised.

"Apparently he wants to get to the bottom of this as much as you guys do," Sydney said, shrugging. "All I know is that I asked, and he gave me this hard copy file -- delivered to my desk yesterday morning by special courier." She nodded at the photos. "What happened to him?"

Max looked at the date -- October, 2018 -- and understood. "It was his first long term mission," she said quietly. "Alec fell in love with his target's daughter and when he was ordered to kill her and her father he couldn't go through with it -- tried to warn them in fact." Max swallowed hard. "It's a wonder Manticore didn't put him down. But I guess he was considered too valuable so they punished him instead ... tried to fix what they saw as wrong in his attitude."

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

She picked up one of the photographs in a shaking hand -- a close-up of Alec's face. The young X5's eyes were open, but unseeing, his skin bruised, his lip cut, a gash above his left eye ... Another photo showed 494's hand, the fingers raw and bleeding as if someone had maybe crushed them beneath a boot. "I never realized what they put him through through," she said quietly. "He never talks about it."

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"Can we get on with this!" Alec called out to them. "I'm gettin' bored. And I'm hungry. And if we wait much longer I'm gonna hafta go to the john."

Max jumped, realizing Alec had been listening to everything they'd been saying.

"We won't dare let him go back to this," Brezzel warned, indicating the photographs. "Such severe trauma tends to create its own place in the memory and acts as a pull. When he goes under, he's going to have to fight to not re-enter that time."

The two women looked at each other, then at Alec who graced them with a quick smile and a "thumbs up" showing how little he was worried about that dire prediction.

"Let's do it then," Brezzel said, walking around the table and out across the open expanse of floor to his waiting subject.

*****

"Did I mention I hate needles?" Alec said, nervously watching as Brezzel swabbed alcohol on the back of his wrist and prepared to insert a large gauge I.V. line.

"Well, my young friend, you're going to have two of them in you for the duration of this little trip I'm afraid."

Alec looked above his head where dual bags of fluid were hanging like grotesque Christmas ornaments -- one tinged red, the other green. "Not too fond of drugs either," he commented.

"Drugs can be a good thing," the Brezzel said cheerfully.

Alec winced as what he considered a positively huge needle was inserted into the vein in the back of his right wrist, then watched cautiously as the doctor moved around the table to tend to his other arm.

It hurt some, but he'd survived far worse.

When he was hooked up to the juice, Brezzel snugged velcroed straps around his forearms, and Alec looked up in alarm.

"Just a precaution," the older man said soothingly as he also tightened restraints on the X5's bare ankles and one around his midsection.

"These won't hold me if I wanna bolt" Alec pointed out, flexing slightly against the leather.

"You're not going to be thrashing," the doctor said with a little smile. "At least hopefully not. But you might twitch -- attempting to act out a dream even though your body paralyzes itself to all intents and purposes during REM sleep. We need to keep the I.V.s in place.

Alec and Dr. Brezzel

Pushing up Alec's t-shirt, Brezzel then attached monitor patches to the X5's chest -- one above each nipple. Diodes were also placed on his temples, and along both arms and legs. Alec felt like someone's science experiment -- which, in a way, is what he was -- and he glanced across the open space of the warehouse to meet Max's eyes. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded ... reassuring him, and he took a deep calming breath.

"It works like this," Brezzel said, holding a set of headphones in his hands that also trailed a tangle of wires. "The drugs will rapidly take you through the stages of sleep into REM where you'll begin dreaming. One is a sedative, the other a specially concocted hallucinogen of my father's making -- home brew you might call it -- that will make the images sharper and easier to control."

"How does this help me remember?" Alec asked.

"Dreams are made up of memories," Brezzel explained. "Manticore erased the link in your temporal lobe to the memories of that one mission, so you can't access them voluntarily. However, all of the memories are still intact ... stored in your neural pathways. Dreams, however, don't manifest through the temporal lobe. We don't know where they come from, in fact. There are just theories. But it's pretty well established that there has to be a common pooling place in the brain." He looked across the room at Sydney Bristow. "This procedure has worked before. Think of it as the front door to your mind being closed and locked, but a back door standing open somewhere. You're going to be going through that back door, Alec. But once inside, it's going to be up to you to steer yourself to the right room ... to what you want to remember."

"I'll be able to control my dream?"

"Yes," Brezzel said with conviction. "If you can stay focused, which is the trick. The drugs will help with that -- allow you to be more interactive with your dreams than you are in normal REM."

"And the headphones?"

"I'll be able to talk to you this way," Brezzel said. "Help guide you to the right spot. I'll be monitoring your vital signs, your brain waves, and to some extent be able to see what you're 'seeing' in your dreams. It's a new technology I developed over the past five years. I call it Remote Vision."

The older man's bushy eyebrows drew down. "There is a danger," he said quietly. "What you're going to be experiencing will seem very real to your physical body -- moreso than in true sleep. There have been fatalities ..."

"In other words," Alec said, "don't get my ass killed while I'm in 'Never Never Land.'"

"Just ... stay in control."

"Got it," Alec said, settling back on the acrylic table and forcing his limbs to relax. "Let's get this over with."

"All right," Brezzel said, moving to open the I.V. drips. "I want you to count back from one hundred for me, and as you go under try and concentrate on the last thing you remember before the Sharise mission. Go back to 2018 ... to Manticore ..."

Alec took one last look in Max's direction. "One hundred," he said, his voice steady and deepening. "Ninety-nine, ninety-eight ..." The X5 felt like he was sinking into soft pillows, everything going grey, and he began to focus on Manticore ... classes ... training ...

"Ninety-seven ..."

He could hear Lydecker talking, the tap of the colonel's boots as he paced the front of a classroom. The desk Alec was sitting in was uncomfortable, the wooden back digging into his spine ...

*****

"Where are you?" Brezzel's voice whispered inside his head.

"Class," Alec replied sleepily. "Italian."

The doctor looked at Max, a question in his eyes. She, Sydney, and the scientist were monitoring Alec from across the room, watching his vital signs.

"Alec was being prepped for long term assignments," Max explained. "Sort of like getting a dozen college degrees all at one time -- history, arts, literature, languages, common verbal usage ... Stuff he needed to know to function in the outside world so he could infiltrate." She paused a moment ... glanced at the CIA agent beside her. "Only the best and brightest were chosen for that kind of advanced education. With his I.Q. and eidetic memory he could learn an entire language in a day, or get through all of Shakespeare's plays."

"Well, let's nudge our bright boy out of the classroom," Brezzel said cheerfully. "Alec," he said, speaking into a microphone. "School's over. You're receiving your mission assignment."

*****

"Have you been briefed on your target, X5-494?"

"Yes, sir. Robert Berrisford, fifty-eight years old. Widow. CEO of Mercidyne and one of Manticore's subcontractors.

"Our intelligence indicates that Berrisford's been curious lately about the work we do here--asking questions he shouldn't be. Close surveillance has become a necessity."

"Yes, sir."

"We've established a cover for you. Initially, your primary contact will be with his daughter."

"Yes, sir. According to the file, her name is Rachel. She's seventeen. Only child. Mother died when she was ten. She's a good student--excels in history and communications."