*****

Hattie's Haven

They were snowed in. The blizzard had dumped almost three feet of snow in the isolated mountain hollow and, according to Hattie, they'd be lucky if the plows reached them any time in the next week.

Good, Lydecker thought to himself as he stood at the kitchen window looking out at that pristine blanket of white. Stendahl's people knew he'd taken 494 from the New Manticore base, but they had no idea where he'd gone from there. With the blizzard paralyzing half the country, the U.S. military would be slowed down, and they'd hardly be too concerned about a single missing soldier -- even a transgenic one.

Meanwhile ... hopefully ... the other part of his plan would have time to work, and when he and 494 finally emerged from hiding everything would -- more or less -- be back on track.

494 ... Alec ... was enjoying a big bowl of homemade oatmeal and a plate of scrambled eggs at the kitchen table, downing the food with wolfish relish. Being unconscious for 72 hours made a guy hungry -- or so the X5 had said when he pulled up a chair and accepted Hattie's offer of breakfast.

The electricity was out, of course, but the kitchen had a wood burning stove for emergency heat and cooking. It was still chilly in the room, the linoleum floor icy, but his "nephew" seemed comfortable enough, the colonel noted -- the grey sweats Hattie had dug out of a closet (left behind by a guest) far warmer than hospital scrubs and skin.

"Thank you, ma'am," Alec said politely as Hattie refilled his coffee cup. Lydecker stared at the X5 as the transgenic spooned a rather large quantity of sugar into the brew, reminded of the Unit's high metabolism. Then he shook his head, a little smile touching his lips. 494's handlers had spent days ... weeks ... with him when he was a teenager, teaching him etiquette and proper manners so he wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb when sent on assignments. With one hand on his lap and the other now holding a fork impeccably, the lad was the epitome of the perfect guest. Throw in that inborn charm and boyish smile, and the combination was lethal -- at least to women.

And Hattie was no exception. "You eat all you want, young man," she said, sounding like a mother and dishing out a second helping of eggs on the plate as well as adding three strips of fresh bacon. "You're still looking a bit peaked and need to regain your strength."

494 -- probably unused to being fussed over Lydecker surmised -- was eating up the attention along with the food. He was about to caution his soldier to dial back the charisma when he noticed the X5's hand -- the left one holding the fork -- was shaking slightly.

Hattie noticed too, and her brow wrinkled with worry. Naively, she reached out and placed a palm against 494's cheek. (No one, absolutely no one at Manticore would dare touch an X5 without warning that way.) The colonel actually started to rise from his chair, half expecting the Unit to strike out at the uninvited physical contact -- but to his surprise (and relief), his soldier merely smiled up at the old woman, his large hazel-green eyes wide, innocent, and seemingly appreciative of the attention.

494 doesn't like to be touched, Lydecker remembered reading in Alec's Manticore psych profile. But then that was before the boy's body had been caressed by a lover's hand ...

"You're still feverish, child," Hattie scolded. "Maybe you should go back to bed. See, you're chilling." She was referring to 494's trembling.

Suddenly self conscious, Alec put down the fork and balled fingers into a fist. "I'm fine, ma'am," he assured her, but with a quick sideways look at his CEO. Tryptophan? those eyes pleaded.

Luckily, the colonel had come prepared. Fishing in an inner pocket of his tan flight jacket, he produced a small bottle containing several pills. "Here," he said, unscrewing the cap and offering one.

"What is it?" 494 asked suspiciously.

"A derivative of the amino acid we use back at the base," Lydecker replied. "It lasts longer than straight tryptophan, and is metabolized faster as well."

"We could use some of that in Terminal City, you know," 494 said as he took the pill from the colonel, sniffed it suspiciously, then shrugged and downed it with a sip of orange juice. "Our pipeline of medication is tenuous at best. It's one of our biggest vulnerabilities -- that McKinley could cut off our supply. That would leave about thirty of us in pretty bad shape, including me and Max." He regarded his commanding officer levelly. "Since you're sendin' more of your own guys to us, why not include a little of the good stuff while you're at it?"

Hattie was listening to the exchange between the two men closely, and Lydecker saw something in his aunt's eyes. The woman was extremely sharp for her age, as well as frighteningly intuitive.

494 saw it too -- and closed his mouth, abruptly cutting off the conversation.

However, the damage had been done.

*****

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

Alec swallowed his mouthful of scrambled eggs with difficulty, his throat suddenly tight.

Shit. The old lady was far from stupid, and he'd just been careless. He supposed he could blame his slip on dehydration and drug hangover, but in reality he'd gotten too used to acting "human" around humans and forgotten himself.

Automatically, he looked to Lydecker who was staring out the window, the man's back ramrod straight.

And then Alec felt Hattie's eyes on him ...

"You're not really Donnie's nephew, are you?" she finally said, the words tumbling into the awkward silence that had fallen over the kitchen.

"No," Alec said simply, sensing a lie wouldn't work here. "But I am a soldier ... under his command." He nodded at Lydecker. "Well, at least part of the time. Actually, I'm more of a mercenary."

"Who talks too much," the colonel interjected softly, his tone warning, although he hadn't turned around.

Hattie was nodding knowingly. "And you're on the run from the law?"

"Not the law," Alec said quickly, looking once more to Lydecker for help. However, the colonel still had his back to them, leaving the X5 adrift. "But there are people out there who wanna kill me."

"And Donnie's helping you because ...?"

How to answer? Alec thought. Because the man created my ass? Because he thinks he owns me? Because I'm the epitome of his life's work made flesh?

"Because I didn't do anything wrong," the young transgenic finally said. "And because he needs me."

"Needs you for what?" The old woman drew out a chair and sat down at the table to Alec's left, her pale blue eyes holding onto his bright golden green ones, refusing to let him escape.

"The boy has a lot of special skills," Lydecker finally said, still looking out the window. "I've put years into his training." At last he turned to regard Alec, his expression an odd mixture of disgust and pride. "Alec is a unique kind of soldier," he continued. "There are very few like him in the world and I'm not going to see him destroyed just because some pompous politician doesn't like his kind."

"His kind?" Hattie said. Then she smiled. Understanding had dawned. "I thought so," she said quietly. "I always suspected you were involved in some very secret military work, Donnie. And what would be more secret than the creation of a supersoldier?"

Her sharp eyes pinned Alec again, raking him up and down. The smile turned faintly condescending. "But I've got to admit, young man, you're not exactly what comes to mind when I try and picture the perfect fighting machine. You look more like the star quarterback of a high school football team than a so-called genetically enhanced killing machine."

Alec did a doubletake at that. "I see you read the tabloids," he said carefully.

Hattie chuckled. "What else is there for an old lady like me to do during these cold lonely winter nights? But actually, the story of your kind has been on the regular news channel fairly often -- part animal .. part human ... created to be the ultimate soldier for the U.S. military, an endeavor gone tragically awry due to the government's stupidity?"

"That about sums it up," Alec said. Chewing on his lower lip, he felt compelled to add, "It wasn't our fault, you know ... the transgenics. The military knew the public wouldn't stand for tax dollars bein' used to create my kind, and when Manticore was exposed ... when our existence was made public ... the good old USA decided the best way to clean up the mess was to destroy us."

"But you've been granted citizenship," Hattie said as she folded hands on the table in front of her. "Why are they still trying to kill you?"

"Because a lot of people at the top think Alec and his people need to be destroyed in order to protect the integrity of the human gene pool," Lydecker answered. Hands balled in his pockets and shoulders hunched, the colonel suddenly looked far older than his 50-odd years.

"I heard about the sterilization bill being passed," Hattie said, those eyes now filling with sympathy. Leaning forward, she took Alec's hand in hers. He didn't pull away. "Tell me, young man," she continued. "I'm betting there's a young lady in your life, isn't there? Someone you love and want to have a family with?"

Point and game for grandma, Alec thought, his eyebrows rising slightly in surprise at her intuition.

"There is," he confirmed. He glanced at Lydecker. "Her name's 'Max' and at the moment she probably thinks I'm dead. The military kidnapped me from my home. Maybe you've heard of it. Terminal City in Seattle?"

Hattie nodded.

"My DNA's worth millions."

"Billions actually," Lydecker chimed in, "since the gene base was destroyed. The X5s are irreplaceable -- natural procreation now the only way to salvage decades of R and D."

"You're an X5 then?" Hattie said. "One of the leaders? Your kind were created to be officers, right? Part cat?"

"Right," Alec said softly.

"Do you want a glass of milk?" Hattie suddenly said, looking toward the refrigerator. "Or cream? I mean if you're part--"

Alec held up a hand, mildly insulted but amused at the same time. "That's all right, ma'am. I'm mostly human and more coffee is just fine."

"They'll do more than kill you ... if you're caught ... won't they?" Hattie said softly, getting up and returning with the coffee pot.

"They'll butcher him alive," Lydecker said grimly. "He's nothing more than a science experiment to the CDC and the military's black ops section."

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"And what am I to you then, 'Deck?" Alec suddenly felt compelled to ask -- figuring no time better than the present to find out something he'd been wondering about for quite awhile.

For a long moment, Alec thought the man wasn't going to answer, and the way Lydecker was staring at him ... drilling through his soul with those cold blue eyes ... made him suddenly wish he hadn't voiced the question.

"Max contains my wife's DNA."

The segue was incomprehensible. Alec blinked. "So?"

"She was murdered ... a long time ago ... my wife. The case was never solved."

"My condolences," Alec said levelly. He took a sip of the hot coffee Hattie had just poured, made a wry face, and reached for the sugar bowl. "But I already knew about the DNA," he said as he spooned the crystals into the cup. "Max told me awhile back -- somethin' about her being 'inspired' by your late wife. It kind of creeped her out." He shrugged again. "But hey, I figure I was inspired by some soldier or actor or rock star too. What of it? I mean, all of us transgenics are a mix of DNA from a lot of people and animals. It's why we don't really have fathers and mothers in the literal sense -- just surrogate moms and genetic donor pops." He smirked. "Or should I call 'em dams 'n sires?"

"Call your ancestors anything you want, 494," Lydecker said harshly. "Make a joke of it if you want. But the fact is, Max is the closest thing to a daughter I'll ever have, which, like it or not, makes you the closest thing to a son."

Alec's mind scrambled for footing for a second as he tried to digest this unexpected news from the colonel. All along he'd figured Lydecker was so possessive about him and Max because he thought of his kids as extremely valuable property. It had honestly never occurred to the X5 that 'Deck might think of his X5 soldiers as relatives. In a way, it put a whole new spin on things -- but Alec was, if nothing else, good at landing on his feet during unexpected situations.

"That's almost pathetic," the transgenic finally said, his voice deliberately cool. "But understandable. Need I say the feeling's not mutual?"

"You don't need to say anything at all, soldier."

"But the point is," Hattie said quietly, speaking to her nephew, "you're really trying to protect your children?"

Lydecker took a deep shuddering breath as Alec watch him through slightly narrowed eyes. "Yes."

"Which I guess makes you family afterall," Hattie said succinctly, the words directed to Alec. "Now, if you're feeling up to it, how about using that super strength of yours to go chop some firewood. We're going to be without electricity for several days and our supply's running low."

*****

Maureen O'Donnell

Hattie had been kidding about chopping the firewood. In her book, the Manticore boy was still convalescing. However, Alec took her request seriously, and after donning a pair of jeans he found in the "lost clothing" bin, a "guest coat" from a peg on the back porch, and a pair of boots that fit "good enough," he was soon swinging away outside in the snow, splitting logs for the fireplaces.

Lydecker watched him from the back porch, hands stuffed in his pockets for warmth, a scarf snugged around his neck, and shaking his head in mild disbelief.

"Might as well make myself useful," Alec commented when the older man walked up. He swung the ax and neatly split a log in half. "Feels good to get some exercise anyway."

"Aren't you cold?" Lydecker asked, picking up a nearby snow shovel and starting on the walk.

"Not at all," Alec replied. He was about to make a crack about transgenic physical superiority when a movement on his peripheral vision made the X5 turn his head. Ears perked, his telescopic vision zoomed in on a figure emerging from the edge of the woods about a hundred yards away.

"Company," Alec said quietly, instinctively tightening his grip on the ax handle.

Lydecker leaned on the shovel as his eyes searched the sky. "You hear any air power?"

"No."

And that was that. If a helicopter had been anywhere in the vicinity, the X5's keen hearing would have picked it up.

"It's a girl," Alec added, relaxing slightly but glancing at his colonel.

"Hold your ground, soldier," Lydecker said low under his breath. "And remember. You're my nephew, and you're ordinary."

"Gotcha."

The young woman looked to be in her late teens, Alec noted as she came closer, slogging booted feet through what was probably a path when not covered with several feet of new fallen snow. Red curls had escaped from a loose-fitting fur hood, and green eyes danced with delight as she turned her face upwards to the still falling flakes, letting them dampen naturally rosy cheeks. The parka made her look twice the size she probably really was, the X5 realized. Her bone structure was actually on the slender side, and, as far as height, she was about Max's stature -- her head would reach just above his own shoulder.

"Hello the house!" the girl called out as she waved. Slightly breathless from wading through the snow, she waited until she was closer then said, "I know Hattie probably didn't expect me today, what with the storm and all, but I wanted to make sure she was all right. I didn't know she had guests. I thought you guys canceled due to the weather."

"You must be Maureen," Lydecker said, putting on his friendliest smile and holding out a gloved hand.

"Maureen O'Donnell," she said, clasping his hand firmly. But her eyes were already on Alec. "And you are?"

"Alec McDowell," the X5 replied quickly, sketching a little bow then running fingers back through his hair shaking out flakes of snow.

"Donald Lydecker," 'Deck said, enlightening her before she asked.

"A fellow Celt," Maureen said with obvious delight, acknowledging Lydecker with her eyes, but speaking to the younger of the two men. Her voice had a slight accent -- mountain -- and was pleasing to listen to.

However, Alec's brow wrinkled. He didn't understand the reference.

"The last name?" the girl said. "We're both Scotch ancestry?"

"Right," Alec said, catching on quick. He'd never thought of himself as having an "ancestry" before, what with being a mixture of over half a dozen humans and a a big black kitty-cat.

"We're not guests," Lydecker quickly explained, rocking back on his heels and studying the young woman closely. "I'm Hattie's nephew, Donald Lydecker, and this is Alec, a relative of my late wife's. We stopped by to visit with Hattie on our way to the east coast and got snowed in."

"You could be stranded in a worse place, that's for sure," Maureen said happily with another brilliant smile.

She also had freckles, Alec noted -- a dash of them across her nose and cheek bones, sort of like his own complexion, and her eyes were as green as his, but lacking the golden highlights. Maybe they did share some of the same ancestry afterall.

"Anyone want some hot chocolate?" Hattie called from the porch. Then she spotted Maureen. "Child! You shouldn't have come out in this storm!"

"Thought you might need some help is all," Maureen replied, eagerly making her way up the sidewalk Lydecker had been shoveling. "But I see you've already got the guys working for you."

The three made their way into Hattie's kitchen where she had steaming mugs of cocoa on the table. Alec shrugged out of his jacket, and noted that he'd been right about Maureen's petite build. When she'd taken off her own coat a nice figure was revealed, perky breasts filling out a blue wool sweater and shapely legs encased in fleece-lined jeans. The large boots she was wearing only emphasized the rest of her slender frame. A pretty little thing, he bet she turned the heads of quite a few local boys.

However, Maureen was now looking at him a bit oddly, and Alec realized he'd been appreciating the scenery too much. Suddenly self conscious, he ducked his head then turned his attention to the hot cup of cocoa in his hand. The chocolate was good ... something he'd never tasted before. Luxury items like this weren't standard fare in Terminal City.

"Where are you from, Alec?" Maureen asked.

An innocent enough question, but still 494 glanced at Lydecker before answering lightheartedly. "Wyoming."

"Then you're used to snow like this."

Alec made a wry face. "Yeah, but I've never been a big fan of the cold, or the wet either." He bit his tongue before adding a flippant feline DNA remark. In TC that would have flown, but he was undercover here -- something he had to remember. However, he'd been "outed" as a transgenic for so long he was finding it a bit difficult stuffing himself back into the "ordinary" closet.

"Hey!" the girl suddenly said, so loudly Alec jumped. "I've got an idea! Since you're stuck here for the duration, why not hike down to town with me. The Twilight Tavern has a generator and their televisions are working. We can get the news and have a beer. Whadaya say?"

"You always issue invitations to strangers?" Alec asked.

The fluorescent smile flashed. "I doubt that Hattie would be keeping a pair of ax murderers in her house," Maureen returned. "I figure I'm safe."

Alec noticed the invitation hadn't included Lydecker. One didn't have to be an astute judge of character to recognize that Miss Maureen O'Donnell was flirting with the new boy in town, and wanted some time alone with him. Idly, he wondered how many conquests she already had among the local lads.

This was a game to her. He knew that. But what the hell -- he was bored.

"Sure," Alec said, before Lydecker could sputter an excuse. "Beer sounds good, and we need to know how widespread this blizzard is before setting out for the coast." He glanced at the colonel, one eyebrow raised, double daring the man to object.

To his surprise, Lydecker merely nodded and mumbled a rather paternal sounding "You kids have a good time." The colonel then glanced at a clock on the wall, and added, "I'll stay here with Hattie and finish clearing off the walks. See if you can find out when the plow's going to dig us out if you can."

"Will do ... Uncle," Alec said with a grin, knowing that the colonel really wanted him to do a little recon to make certain there wasn't any sign of pursuit in the town or on the news.

"Oh, and Alec," Lydecker added as the X5 was once again donning his jacket. "Stay out of trouble."

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

"You a troublemaker?" Maureen asked mischievously as they trudged down the path through the woods, following the fast fading footprints she'd made on her way up the hill as the snow fell softly around them.

Alec slipped on an icy spot, cursed, and grabbed the trunk of a sapling with a gloved hand. He wasn't cold -- he hadn't even bothered with a hood or hat -- but he definitely didn't like the footing.

"You really aren't used to snow, are you?" she remarked.

"Not lately," the X5 said truthfully. "And yeah, I've been known to raise a little hell in my sordid youth." An understatement if there ever was one.

Hattie's house was less than half a mile from the main town, although the treacherous conditions of the path made the walk seem a lot longer. "There's the Twilight Tavern," Maureen said as they broke through the far side of the woods and could see the village down below.

A single story, red clapboard building with two chimneys and a fairly large parking lot dominated what was apparently Main Street (because it was the only street). The bar was a popular local watering hole, and had a lot of customers -- Alec counted at least a dozen 4-wheel drive vehicles in the parking lot -- considering they were technically in the middle of the worst blizzard of the decade and supposedly snowed in for the duration. But then these were mountain people, well used to the inclement weather that visited these little pockets of civilization every winter.

They half walked, half slid down the back trail to the tavern, and sloshed inside, stomping snow off their boots on the rubber mats provided for that very thing. Scanning the territory like the soldier he was, Alec noted the simple polished wood bar, the battered leather-covered stools, and a dozen booths and tables. In the back was a pool room, a foos ball table, and an assortment of arcade games. Two televisions on "mute" flickered from their perches just below the ceiling on each end of the room while about 20 patrons watched the close-captioned news and puffed on (or chewed) a various assortment of tobacco products. A spittoon in the corner reminded the X5 that he really was pretty far from Seattle at the moment.

His eyes stinging in the smoke, Alec coughed once and waved a hand in front of his face. He could tolerate Mole's cigars, but this was a bit much, the atmosphere here thicker than anything he'd ever encountered at Crash.

In a way, the bar was a lot like his old haunt back in Seattle, but with a different, somehow more sinister ambiance. It took the X5 a second to pinpoint the problem, then he realized what was bothering him -- the smell. On top of the tobacco fumes, the place also reeked of stale liquor, potato chips, bad breath, and body odor, all underlaid by a pervasive scent of harsh wood smoke. The room was sorely in need of some ventilation, but considering it was only 10 degrees outside, cracking a window was probably not an option. Taking a deep cleansing breath of the crisp air as it followed him through the open door, Alec exhaled, told himself to quit being so picky, and followed Maureen to a table near the bar.

Reconnaissance. Time to mingle with the locals -- and hopefully gain some news about just how badly Major Davis Stendahl wanted his balls.

*****

Artwork courtesy of Valjean & Jensen Ackles Museum

"I'll have a Scotch," Alec said to the waitress, at the same time holding a hand up to politely refuse the mug of beer Maureen offered. But then he remembered -- he didn't have any money. "Umm," he amended. "Or maybe not." He put on his most charming smile. "Beer will be fine -- since you're buyin'. You are buyin', right?"

"I'm buying," Maureen laughed, her red curls bouncing and shimmering in the bar's fluorescent light. "So," she said, as she poured herself a second glass from the pitcher. "You're a Scotch man."

"That I am," Alec readily admitted.

"You take it on the rocks, or neat?"

"Neat," the X5 said, smiling again. "Why?"

"What a man drinks says a lot about him. You don't like your liquor watered down, or your women either I imagine."

Again with the flirting, Alec thought, shaking his head slightly. Not that he wasn't used to pretty girls coming on to him. Afterall, it was part of his Manticore package -- the handsomeness ... the charisma ... the charm. Those natural born traits made it easy to manipulate people, women especially ... persuade them ... He knew damn well that even unshaven, and in a secondhand sweatshirt, jeans, boots and jacket he probably looked like a Calvin Kline ad. No use denying the fact or being modest about it. Max might chide him for being egotistical and cavalier regarding his good looks, but there was no use denying his physical attributes were both a fact of life and a very useful tool that Manticore had given him.

Rubbing at the two-day's growth of beard stubble on his chin, Alec thought the situation through. He didn't want to persuade Maureen to do anything, except to maybe be decent to him. This was recon ... a fact-finding trip to town to check out the perimeter and troll for news. Time to -- as Lydecker liked to say -- dial it down a notch.

Time to put out the fire before it did anything more than smolder.

"Ya know, Maureen," Alec said, his voice quiet and rich, "You seem to be a real nice girl, and pretty too, but there's somethin' you need to know about me. I--"

"--don't tell me!" she said loudly, holding out both hands. "I already know."

"You do?"

"You're not what you seem to be."

True, Alec thought, hoping to God she didn't mean what he was afraid she meant. Had he somehow given himself away?

He waited, one eyebrow raised.

"You're married, right?"

Alec's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the comment, but at the same time relieved. He'd never exactly thought of himself as "married." However, technically he wasn't far from it he supposed.

Lying would only complicate things, so he improvised. "Yeah, I am," he said. But that didn't feel quite right to him so he added, "in an undefined, unconventional sort of way."

"You're really in love with someone then?" Maureen said, her voice so charmingly plaintive Alec felt beyond flattered.

"Really," he said quietly. "And I'm plannin' on gettin' back to her real soon."

"Okay," Maureen said with a heavy sigh as she looked down into her beer. "Figures ... The good ones are always taken." Then she glanced up at him, green eyes sparkling. "Time for plan 'B'."

"Plan 'B'?"

"Yeah. It's called 'we can still be friends'. Now, be a gentleman and ask something about me. I'll even get you started. I just enrolled in pre-med at Marshall University in Huntington for next fall. They're starting classes again there for the first time in almost a decade and I made it into the first group accepted." She smiled broadly. "I wanna be a doctor. There's a real shortage of them here in the mountains. We backwoods folk have to go to Charleston if we want licensed medical care and that just isn't right."

She regarded him steadily for a long second, and when he didn't say anything-- "Any questions, about me I mean?" Her smile turned knowing. "If not, we can talk about you again if you want 'cause I get the feeling you're the kind of guy who isn't shy about himself -- and I mean that in a lot of ways."

Alec grinned. She was mocking him and he found her humor refreshing. He was about to say something sarcastically humble and mildly self deprecating when a picture flickering on one of the television sets caught his eye -- Terminal City, with a byline dated yesterday.

Maureen followed his gaze, and couldn't help noticing the intensity of his stare.

"You from there?" she said astutely. "Seattle?"

"Yeah," Alec replied, his eyes still glued to the set as he read the closed captioning.

There had been some kind of organized protest going on outside the TC gates last night. Sector Police had been called in and there had been a few casualties -- all human from the account -- and two arrests of transgenics. It didn't say who, but he imagined Max was "up to her eyeballs in alligators" as the saying went.

He was about to ask Maureen how long before the roads would be open -- he needed to get back home -- but she was still staring at the TV. Alec turned around again, to see what she was looking at -- and froze.

There, big as life, was a picture of X5-494 on the screen -- one taken of him at his first Seattle City Council meeting (by Sketchy as he recalled). It really was a flattering shot. He looked like any girl's wet dream with his face clean shaven, his hair neatly trimmed, and wearing a kick-ass black leather jacket.

Artwork courtesy of Valjean

In other, related news, the crawl read, a warrant has been issued for the arrest of the transgenic's Seattle City Council representative, Alec McDowell a.k.a. X5-494. The Manticore supersoldier has been implicated in last week's break-in of Senator James McKinley's local office and the assault of several of the Senator's personnel. If you know the whereabouts of this transgenic, contact your local Sector Police headquarters, but do not attempt to apprehend this individual yourself. He's considered armed, and extremely dangerous.

Maureen was staring at him now instead of at the television. Luckily, no one else in the bar seemed to have noticed they had a wanted felon in their midst.

"Looks like you made the national news," she said with surprising calmness.

"Looks like I did," Alec said evenly as his own heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears.

"Donald lied," she said. "You're not his nephew."

"Obviously not."

"Does Hattie know?"

"Yes."

"That you're wanted by the law?"

"She knows someone's after me, but this development," he nodded at the television where the news had moved on to flooding in California, "is new to me, too."

"You mean there are more than one group of people lookin' to catch that pretty ass of yours, Superboy?"

Alec smiled bitterly. "When your DNA is worth millions on the open market, you're on just about everyone's 'A' list."

"I read about your kind," Maureen said, relaxing back in her chair and taking a sip of beer. "You got one of them bar codes on the back of your neck?"

"I do."

"And your girlfriend?"

Alec's smile broadened as he relaxed too, the dangerous moment safely passed. The girl obviously wasn't going to do anything rash, which meant there was time for damage control. "Transgenic through and through. I'm X5, and so is she."

"X5," Maureen said, thinking about that. Then she nodded. "One of the leaders ... Manticore's best, brightest, and most rebellious." She leaned forward, putting elbows on the table as Alec absently took a handful of popcorn from the basket and began to munch. "They say you're not all human ... that you're part animal."

Alec's hazel-green eyes took aim. "Feline to be exact," he said quietly.

Maureen saw the danger flickering in those golden green depths ... the challenge ... and wisely backed down. "Your business," she said. "But I guess we're not fellow Celts afterall."

"I wouldn't know about that. I was made in a lab from all sorts of people. Chances are, a Scot might have been in the mix."

"You under Donald's command?" she asked, slightly changing the subject.

"In a way," Alec admitted. "He saved my ass from some bad guys, and now I need to get home to Seattle."

"And to her?"

"And to her."

As he said the words Alec realized something. If a warrant had been issued for his arrest that meant McKinley had either gone back on his deal with Max -- or else Max had broken her promise to the man.

He fervently hoped it was the latter, that she'd come to her senses and informed the Senator there was no way in hell she, or any other transgenic, was going to submit to voluntary sterilization.

But now matters were even more complicated by the arrest orders. If he ended up in federal or military prison, the ordinaries could do anything they wanted to him, including using him as a hold over Max and the rest of his people, not to mention making him a sitting duck for Stendahl.

Damn, he needed to get out of this godforsaken West Virginia hollow!

Maureen was signaling a waitress. "Scotch for my friend," she said with a little smile. "Your best stuff. Neat."

"Good liquor costs money," Alec said. "And I don't have any."

"It's on me, X5-494," she said easily. "Seems to me you've got enough woes in your life right now without havin' to go without your favorite drink. Now, tell me more about Terminal City and your people," she said, her slightly hillbilly accent a soothing cadence in his ears. "It's not often a backwoods West Virginia gal gets to converse intimately with a genuine supersoldier." She glanced out the window where the snow was only now starting to finally let up. "Looks like we've got all day, and probably all night too, so you might as well tell me a story I can repeat to my grandkids someday."

Alec, for some reason, found himself relaxing with this girl in a way he did with very few people. She actually reminded him a little bit of O.C. and her easy going friendship. There was a lot about himself that he could never reveal, of course. (Lydecker would have his balls if he did.) But it was always nice to find someone willing to listen without preconceived prejudice against his kind. Besides, he reasoned as he accepted the glass of Scotch from the waitress, a little P.R. for the transgenic cause couldn't do any harm.

Unfortunately, however, the X5 was so busy weighing the ramifications of what he could and couldn't say to Maureen, he failed to notice the young man wearing a deputy's badge staring at him from a booth in the corner.

*****

Mole Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"Max," Mole said, coming up behind her as she sat in silence in the nearly deserted TC control room. "I know you did it for him, because it's what he'd want you to do. But now every goddamn cop in the country is lookin' to shoot our boy on site."

"It doesn't matter," Max said in a monotone. "I reneged on my deal with McKinley because Alec's dead."

"Max," Mole tried again. "You don't know that he's dead. Maybe--"

"Lydecker said if I didn't hear by this evening figure the worst has happened." She glanced up at the lizard man with infinitely tired eyes. "It's midnight, Mole. No word. He's not coming home. And the worst of it is, Alec was destroyed believing he'd lost my love."

"Hey, Max," Mole said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. He started to reach for a cigar, out of habit, and thought better of it. "Alec knows he sometimes pisses you off real bad, and he also knows you always, always forgive him. Hell, we even had a betting pool going down here as to when you two lovebirds would kiss and make up."

She said nothing.

"There's also a pool going as to when our boy gets our lady leader pregnant."

Anger flared in Max's eyes. "That's cruel," she snapped.

Mole shrugged. "Sorry, but you know how the guys like a good bet. 'Sides, the whole place knows you and Alec are gonna have kids someday. It's just the natural progression of things."

Max snorted. "Yeah, some natural progression. I'm infertile, Mole. Did your betting pool know that? That's one reason I agreed to the sterilization -- figured it wouldn't matter anyway."

Mole was a bit taken aback. "You mean you can never have kids? You seen a doc about this, Max?"

"Dr. Carr," Max said quietly. "And it might not be never ... just difficult. But all of that doesn't matter now because Alec's dead. I was protecting his life at the expense of our people, Mole -- brokering a personal deal with the fertility of the transgenics hanging in the balance." She shifted in her seat and looked away. "I had myself pretty well convinced it was the right thing, too ..."

"Alec would never have let you go through with it."

Max nodded slowly. "Maybe ... maybe that's what I was counting on in my heart anyway."

"You're gonna try'n rescue his ass, aren't you? I can round up some guys in half an hour."

"It's too late," Max said, her voice barely more than a whisper now. "Stendahl's had him too long. The damage has been done. Alec's gone, and I'd really rather not see what they've done to his body."

Mole swallowed hard and reached for that cigar again. He really needed a smoke. "What about Lydecker?" he asked as he lit the stogie and took a couple of deep puffs to get it going.

Max shrugged. "What about him? He's probably dead too, in which case that makes us completely free from New Manticore."

"They've got a lot of their people here," Mole pointed out. "X5s and X6s mostly. They're havin' a blast down on Oak Street with their more liberal minded brethren, although New Manticore's bound to want 'em back sooner or later."

"I'll worry about that tomorrow," Max said, feeling as exhausted as she ever had in her life. She looked up at Mole again. "Hey, at least Alec would get a kick out of McKinley using all his manpower hunting down a ghost -- at least until Stendahl and the Senator compare notes and our Familiar friend finds out what really happened to 494."

"He would at that, wouldn't he," Mole agreed as he took a seat on the floor beside his lady leader.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Alec slept well -- for awhile -- snuggled down in the soft warm mattress beneath a down comforter and with the sound of the fire crackling in his ears. Outside the stars had come out as the temperature plummeted, a cold front sweeping away the last remnants of the blizzard. Fifteen below, the thermometer on Hattie's back porch read when he'd finished his hot cocoa in the kitchen and called it a night -- cold enough to make even a revved up transgenic shiver.

"Headache better?" Lydecker asked him quietly in the hallway as the two men headed for their respective rooms while Hattie locked up downstairs.

"Almost gone," Alec said. "That stuff you gave me is workin' better than plain tryptophan. Too bad you don't wanna share."

"It's also expensive as hell to manufacture and scarce as hen's teeth, 494," Lydecker said tersely. "But I couldn't very well have you seizing -- not after that concoction Stendahl had pumped into your veins. You probably would have died and then all of this," he glanced around the hallway, "would have been for nothing. As things stand, the plan is for us to head back to Seattle when the roads are clear -- carefully and quietly. The fake I.D. I brought should see us through the checkpoints just like it did on the way here."

Colonel Donald Lydecker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"You think it's wise for me to show up in Seattle what with me bein' a wanted man now and all?" Alec asked, his hand on the door latch to his bedroom.

"It's ... unfortunate ... that Max chose this time to draw attention to you," the colonel said, looking out the window at the end of the hallway to the snow covered yard. "But at least we don't have to worry now about her leading the rest of your people to slaughter."

"The sterilization, you mean," Alec said, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. With me supposedly dead, she has no reason to keep the deal. But of course that doesn't help me much. My picture's gonna be in every post office from here to the west coast by the end of the week."

"I should have called her," Lydecker said. "But I'm afraid Stendahl has her cell tapped."

"The land lines are still down, too," Alec said. "I checked when I was in town. If I'd been thinking, I would have lifted a cell phone from somewhere ... used it to call Max ... but you're right about her probably bein' under surveillance."

"You sure your cover wasn't blown by that news story?" Lydecker asked for the third time.

"Reasonably sure. Although Maureen had a million questions. But she seems like a good kid. I think we can trust her."

"Your call there," Lydecker said. "You were designed to be a good judge of character and I'll go with your assessment of the situation."

Alec ducked his head, an ironic smile on his lips. "And if I thought she'd be a problem? What? You'd order me to break her neck?"

Lydecker just stared at him, and Alec's smile slipped. For a long second the human held the X5's gaze, then with a slight nod of sad understanding as to what his life was really about, the young transgenic turned his back on his handler and entered the bedroom.

It was three hours before dawn when 494's eyes snapped open in the dark. For several disoriented seconds, Alec couldn't put a finger on what had awakened him. Then he realized what had been making his heart race in his dreams -- the very real sound of an approaching helicopter.

*****

Donald Lydecker awoke to the feel of a strong hand gripping his shoulder, and the Glock was in his fist with the swiftness of a thought.

However -- even faster than the weapon had been pulled -- the X5 blurred, and half a second later 494 was the one holding the gun.

Concealing a grin of pride at his kid's skill with a deliberate scowl, the colonel barked harshly, "What the hell are you doing, soldier?"

"Savin' our butts," 494 said lightly, at the same time gliding to the window where he stood to one side of the pane and cautiously peered out into the darkness from behind the homemade curtain.

Lydecker wasn't a fool. "Report!" he snapped. "Is there enemy activity?"

"A chopper just set down in the village. They probably used the grocery store parking lot as a landing pad. It was partially cleared of snow."

"Maybe it's the Red Cross," Lydecker said. "Come to check up on the town to make sure everyone's okay after the blizzard."

"Red Cross uses Sikorsky's," 494 returned. "This sounded like a gun ship -- Blackhawk maybe."

Perhaps they were being paranoid, Lydecker thought to himself. Would Stendahl's reach really be this long -- to find his runaway X5 in a snowbound West Virginia hollow?

"I'm bettin' someone else in that bar recognized me yesterday besides Maureen," 494 said. The X5 narrowed his eyes, probably picturing the room in his mind the colonel figured ... using his eidetic memory. "There was a sheriff's deputy sittin' in the corner ... in a booth. I thought he was watchin' the game on the other set ..."

"We have to assume you were made," Lydecker said. "Which means we have to get out of here, fast."

"And go where?" 494 said sarcastically. "The cornfield? The woods maybe? The SUV's still snowed in, and if they're after us in a chopper we won't get two miles on foot in this snow, especially not you -- not when the sun comes up. I could try'n jack a snowmobile, but in these mountains it would be pretty hard goin' even if we had a destination, and the trees aren't any cover this time of year."

"I'll stay here and try to misdirect them," Lydecker said, realizing the boy was right. "You'll have a good chance then -- on your own."

"Too late," 494 said softly, looking more intently out the window.

Lydecker peered into the darkness, trying to see what the X5 was looking at. And then there it was -- a flash of starlight off the barrel of a gun at the wood line.

"How many?" he asked.

"At least 20," 494 said. "They're surrounding the house. The men in black must have recruited some local boys to up the firepower."

Lydecker looked back at the door of his bedroom, to the hallway. "They'll kill her," he said quietly. "They'll kill her just for harboring you, and because she's a witness."

"I know."

"Can you tell how many are military and how many civilian?"

"Couldn't be more than half a dozen of Stendahl's boys on that chopper," 494 deduced. "The rest are probably rednecks with huntin' rifles deputized by the sheriff."

Lydecker made a decision. "Go," he said. "Make a run for it out the back door into the woods. With your speed and strength you'll have a chance." He crossed the room. "Here's a map," he said, picking up the folded brochure from his nightstand. "If you can make it to the next town before daylight you can probably steal a vehicle. Go back to Seattle ... to Max ... Tell her there's going to be a war, and that the only way for your people to survive is to stand strong. I know you're prepared for a siege in Terminal City, and that you have ways of getting supplies in when needed. The military won't engage in a full scale action in the middle of a populated area. It would be political suicide for McKinley. You can hold out for months there."

"Until what?" 494 asked scathingly. "We all die of old age?"

"Until Max can work out a new truce," Lydecker said. And he meant it. He had faith that 452 could eventually find a way out of this for the transgenics. But in order to do that, she needed this Unit ... her mate ... by her side -- of that he was certain.

"They'll kill you and your aunt," 494 said levelly. "Even if I'm not here they'll shoot both of you and you know it, 'Deck."

"Survival of the fittest, 494," the colonel growled. "Didn't I teach you anything back at Manticore?"

"That you did," 494 agreed. And then the Unit smirked. "But I've also learned a few more things since I've been on the outside -- like loyalty and the realization that there are some things worth fightin' for in this world even if you're not under orders."

"Just go!" Lydecker snapped. "That is an order, soldier! Save yourself!"

"No."

"But Max--"

"Will do fine without me. She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. I was just a little distraction along the way."

"You're a lot more than that to her and you know it," Lydecker growled. "You're her future. Now get the hell out of here before we all die!"

The X5 looked out the window again, and softly said, "The house is surrounded."

"You can get through the line."

"No."

Lydecker grabbed 494 by the shoulder, spinning the boy around. "Do you know what they'll do to you?" he shouted. "Me, they'll just kill ... Hattie too. But you ... Do you have any idea what Stendahl has in mind for you? You won't die, 494. You won't be granted that blessing. Your sense of self ... your intelligence ... your personality ... 'Alec' will be cut out of your brain and your body will become Davis' whore. He doesn't care how handsome or smart or clever and good you are, 494! All he wants is your DNA and your physical abilities ... your healing powers. He'll cut that pretty face of yours to pieces, slice open your skull to insert electrodes.. gouge out your eyes and put in cybernetic implants ... cut off your arms and legs and attach robotic limbs ... All of your major organs will be harvested and replaced with synthetic ones, your bloodstream filled with nanocytes ... You'll be castrated for certain, and in a lot more brutal way than McKinley has in mind. Nothing of 'you' will be left except some skin, bone, and your brain stem, 494." The colonel looked up at the ceiling, despair filling his entire being. "You could live like that for a very long time, Alec ... a hundred years or more. Not a man, or a transgenic, but a thing."

The X5 was breathing lightly, but rapidly, as he stared at his colonel. Lydecker could almost literally see the wheels turning in that highly intelligent brain.

"I won't just leave you and Hattie here to die while I run away," the boy finally said.

Donald Lydecker knew what he had to do then. He wasn't going to let the horrors he'd just described happen to this young transgenic. Back at Old Manticore he'd been derisive of X5-494, finding the Unit flawed in many ways and a far cry from the ideal supersoldier he hoped to create. He had other "kids" who fit that description much better ... dependable Units who were fulfilling their destinies in ways that made him proud. 494 was a screw-up ... a failure really who's only redeeming value was as breeding stock. His DNA was stable, and there was always hope that his offspring could be redeemed through intense early psychological conditioning.

But all of that was before ...

Now that 494 had been on the outside for several years -- gone completely native -- Lydecker saw that the very flaws in that Unit's personality were actually strengths. 494's independent nature ... his caring ... his ability to adapt to any situation and fool those around him had served him well. He'd survived far better than many of his more supposedly perfect brethren.

And most importantly of all, Max -- the most perfect X5-Unit of all -- had chosen 494 to be her mate. That, in itself, spoke volumes.

Donald Lydecker could admit now to himself that he truly did care about this boy -- almost as much as he cared about Max. And he would not see him suffer.

The Glock under his pillow wasn't the only weapon the cagey colonel kept on hand.

The look on 494's face was priceless when he suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a small derringer.

"You gonna kill me now?" the X5 said levelly. "'Cause I won't follow your orders?"

"Yes," Lydecker said softly. "I'm going to kill you, but not as punishment, 494. I'm going to pull this trigger to save you."

"From Stendahl," the X5 clarified.

"From Stendahl and all the horrors he would put you through. Someday, 494 ... in another lifetime ... you'll thank me for this."

Lydecker's finger tightened on the trigger. Even an X5's speed couldn't beat a bullet.

"Donnie!" a voice screamed as the bedroom door burst open behind them. "What in tarnation is going on?"

*****

Distracted, Alec threw his attention to the door, but then just as quickly his eyes were back on the immediate threat. Moving with inhuman swiftness, for the second time that night he disarmed his Manticore CEO, wrenching the small pistol out of the older man's hand and, at least for the moment, guaranteeing his own continued existence. In spite of the colonel's dire predictions, the X5 wasn't ready to roll over and die just yet. That kind of surrender just wasn't in his nature.

"They've come for him, haven't they?" Hattie said, nodding at Alec and grasping the situation immediately.

"Yes," Lydecker said as he rubbed his bruised wrist. "I'm sorry, Hattie. I shouldn't have brought him here. I didn't think they'd find us."

"What's done is done," the practical woman said as she pulled her blue fleece robe more tightly around herself, and tucked a stray lock of white hair behind an ear. Then she motioned to the men. "Come on."

"Hattie, we can't get out. All we can do is surrender," her nephew said.

Alec's eyes, however, were on the old woman. He sensed a plan.

"Donnie, I'm surprised," she clucked. "Have you forgotten everything you once knew about this area?"

Hazel-green eyes flicked to the colonel.

Lydecker shook his head, not understanding.

"Twilight was once a thriving coal town," Hattie said. "These hills are riddled with old abandoned mine tunnels."

"We can't make it to a tunnel," Lydecker said tiredly. "We're surrounded."

Alec glanced out the window and saw two flashlight beams. The enemy was closing in. There wasn't much time left. "Shut up!" he snapped at his colonel. "The lady's got a plan. Hear her out."

"Thank you, young man," Hattie said, favoring him with a little smile. "And yes, I do have a plan. Donnie, remember when you used to want to play in the cellar and I'd never let you?"

"Vaguely," Lydecker said, shaking his head.

"That's because there's a boarded over access shaft down there that leads into the old mine. I was always afraid you'd fall in. It's a fair drop -- fifteen feet or more -- but the two of you could theoretically follow the tunnel all the way into town ... if it's not collapsed. It comes out behind the Twilight Tavern, in the hillside back there. The phone lines are still down, but I've got a cell. I'll call Maureen and have her meet you there with her truck. I imagine the county road's clear down to the state highway by now, even though the plows haven't made it up my lane yet."

It was a good plan, and both man and X5 knew it. Alec pocketed the derringer and tucked the Glock into the waistband of the jeans he'd jumped into before coming to Lydecker's room, its handle cold against the bare skin of his belly.

"Get dressed and follow me," Hattie said to her nephew.

For once, Lydecker had no argument, and like that obedient child of long ago, began pulling on his clothes.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

As they dropped into the hole in the cellar floor -- Alec first lowering Lydecker by the arms then lightly leaping down himself to land in a cat crouch -- they heard a crash from upstairs.

"You've got to come with us," Alec said, holding out his hands to Hattie who was peering down at them from above, her light colored eyes owl-wide in the flashlight's beam.

"I'll slow you down too much," she said. "Besides, I can stall them for a few minutes -- give you fellas a chance at a head start."

"Hattie!" Lydecker said sharply. "They'll kill you!"

"I've had a long happy life, Donnie," she said, smiling sweetly -- a smile Alec would remember for the rest of his life. And then she dropped the wooden door back into place over the hole leaving them in darkness.

"Come on," the colonel said, snapping on a flash and shining it down the west tunnel. Transgenic eyes could see far better than a human's in the dark, but down here it was total blackness and even cat eyes needed some source of light to be able to function. "We're only half a mile from town, but pray the timbers aren't collapsed somewhere along the way."

Alec's hand on the man's arm brought him up short. "But Hattie--"

"--is a stubborn old woman who isn't going to be talked into anything," Lydecker said, his voice gruff with what Alec would almost swear was emotion. "She's made up her mind and going back to get killed ourselves isn't going to change anything."

Alec hated it ... leaving Hattie behind ... but the soldier in him was too strong to argue. There was nothing he could do. And so, with a very heavy heart, he forced his attention away from the old woman he'd grown so fond of and back to the situation at hand.

It was a blessing and a curse Manticore had bestowed on him -- the ability to compartmentalize his emotions and fears when necessary ... the ability to focus only on the mission ...

An ability that was now going to save his life ... and cost Hattie hers.

They hadn't gone a hundred paces when the sound of muffled gunfire reached their ears. Alec's heart turned over in his chest, and (Manticore training be damned!) he started back up the shaft. However, Lydecker's grip on his arm stopped him. "It's my fault, not yours," the colonel said softly. "I'm the one who'll live with it."

Alec swallowed hard and wiped his eyes with a sleeve, telling himself it was the dust and mildew of the tunnel making them water. The tightly enclosed place smelled of mold, decay, and dirt. He'd never been particularly claustrophobic, but this place reminded him all too much of a grave.

"Focus, soldier," Lydecker admonished him. "You can't help her now. No one can. And your death would make her sacrifice futile."

"You think they'll find the tunnel?" the X5 asked, realizing that -- much as he hated it -- Lydecker was right.

Lydecker shrugged. "Depends. But they've got local help, and someone's bound to remember the mine pretty soon, which is why we need to move quickly. Shining the light ahead once again, the colonel then turned his back on his past and trudged forward.

Leaving Alec nothing to do but follow.

There was one part of the mine that had, indeed, partially caved in. However, Alec's genetic strength allowed him to lift aside the two large beams blocking their way. Wriggling through the hole he'd made, the two from Manticore then stood up on the other side, dusting themselves off.

"Fresh air," Alec said, sniffing lightly.

"We're close," Lydecker agreed. "You gonna give me one of those guns back, son?"

"Depends," Alec said. "You gonna try'n cut my misspent youth short with it?"

The colonel regarded him steadily. "If Stendahl corners us, I will kill you," he said. "Believe it or not, 494, it would be an act of kindness for both you and Max."

"Okay," Alec said slowly, eying the colonel warily. "So, I keep both guns then."

"But--"

"Don't worry," Alec said acidly. "I'm perfectly capable of puttin' a bullet in my own brain if the situation warrants."

Lydecker chuckled. "Zack thought the same thing," he said. "And look how he ended up."

The words chilled Alec to the bone, but he was determined to not let the older man know that. "Come on," he said, motioning ahead. "If Hattie got hold of Maureen our ride should be waiting. And if she didn't, we're gonna need to get some transportation quick."

Crouching low, they emerged from the mine shaft behind a stand of wild raspberry bushes. Alec cursed under his breath as thorns scratched his face, and Lydecker voiced his agreement.

Down a short, steep shale slope they could see the peeling maroon boards of the back of the Twilight Tavern. At this hour of the night the place was deserted -- except for the white Jeep parked beside the dumpster.

His night vision in full mode, Alec studied the lay of the land and saw no sign of the enemy. Hopefully, they were all still concentrating on searching Hattie's B and B.

Slipping and sliding through the scree, Alec's feet practically flew over the ice and snow, and when he hit the pavement he put it into high gear, blurring for the vehicle and leaving the colonel to follow as best he could. Their one chance was to make a quick getaway, get as far from here as possible before dawn. If there were roadblocks down the road they'd deal with those as needed, but for now all that mattered was gettin' the hell out of Twilight.

Maureen was sitting behind the wheel with the window cranked do