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This is a stand-alone story, a scene following the events of Max Allan Collins' DARK ANGEL novel SKIN GAME, and incorporating information revealed in D.A. Stern's THE EYES ONLY DOSSIER -- author's note

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles World

*****

The sound of a loud thump against Jam Pony's closed and locked side door brought Reagan Ronald to his feet. A few seconds later, pistol in hand, he was beside the metal entryway, eyes and ears alert. In this day and age of martial law and mutant mania in Seattle, one never knew who (or what) might come calling in the middle of the night.

The sound came again -- more of a knock than a thump this time."Who's there?" Normal yelled hoarsely, leveling the gun at the door as if he could shoot through the steel.

"Normal?" a man's voice called. "That you, Normal?"

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"It's me. Alec."

"Alec? What the Hell's bells are you doing out of Terminal City? What are you doing here?" Although he'd lowered the gun at the sound of his former employee's voice, Normal didn't put it away. This could be a trick of some kind, he reasoned. Or worse, it really might be Alec ... Alec who had a pretty good reason to be royally pissed at him for all of the anti-transgenic rhetoric he'd spewed in his face these past months.

"Normal," Alec called again, his voice oddly breathless. "Hey man, let me in. I'm hurt here."

"You're hurt?" Normal practically yelped as he put down the gun at last and unlocked the door. "For cryin' out loud why didn't you say so?" he muttered under his breath. "I'm always the last to know ... No one ever tells me anything ..." Pulling the chain, he quickly raised the panel part way and anchored it open, then turned just in time to catch Alec in his arms as he fell inside.

*****

The first thing the Jam Pony manager noticed was how heavy Alec was; the second was all the blood.

"What happened to you?" Normal asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle and full of worry as he lowered Alec to the floor. There were sirens nearby ... flashing lights ... He supposed the answer to his question was obvious. He closed and locked the door again, then knelt beside his unexpected visitor. "Hey," Normal said. "Golden Boy. What happened?"

Alec moaned softly and rolled over onto his back, trying as hard as he could to stay conscious. "Got shot," he managed to get out. "Can't make it home."

"So, you decided to visit your former place of employment and bleed all over my nice clean floor."

Alec managed a feeble grin. "Sorry about the mess," he said, pressing hands to his side and trying to sit up.

"Whoa, Nelly," Normal said, holding him down. "Don't move. I'll go call an ambulance."

"No!" Alec shouted, grabbing the older man's arm in a grip so fierce it made Normal wince with pain. Alec saw and immediately released him. "No hospitals," he panted. "No police. I'm a dead man if you do."

Normal's eyes behind his black horn-rimmed glasses narrowed. "You're in that much danger?" he said quietly. "You really think they'd kill you?"

"I know they'd kill me," Alec said adamantly. "If not your kind, then White or the Army."

Normal was nodding, not taking offense at the "your kind" remark. Hell, he'd called Alec's people much worse in his day. "I've seen your picture on the news," he said. "You're one of the transgenics that everyone knows about. 'Notorious' wouldn't be too strong of a word. You'd be recognized."

"Fame does have its drawbacks," Alec said, grimacing through the rueful remark. "I hear there's even a website dedicated to me. I'm plannin' on demandin' royalties if there's a t-shirt."

Normal pulled Alec's jacket back and shook his head. "This is serious, Golden Boy," he said. "In case you hadn't noticed, you're bleeding to death. Unless, of course, that mutant body of yours doesn't need as much blood as us ordinaries."

Alec laughed a little at that, then was sorry because it hurt so much. "I'm not so different from you, big guy," he gasped. "I thought you'd realized that."

"I know," Normal said softly. "I know how much you can hurt."

"Got that right," Alec said, panting again.

"What do you want me to do? Or did you just drop by to die?"

"Not the plan," Alec got out. He bit his lower lip. "Call Sketchy."

"That chowder head! What could he do to help? At least O.C. has some common sense. Let me see if I can get hold of her majesty."

"Just call Sketch, Normal," Alec implored, not wanting to get Original Cindy involved in his mess tonight. "Get him here. He'll be able to reach Max without White or the police catchin' on."

Normal was shaking his head in disbelief, but he was also moving toward the phone. "If you say so," he said, obviously doubting Alec's sanity. "But how that mongrel's going to be of any use is beyond me."

*****

"Dude!" Sketchy breathed when he saw Alec lying on the cot in the back of Normal's Jam Pony office. Normal had tried to stem the bleeding, bandage the wound, but the gauze and torn t-shirts were soaked with crimson ... the blanket too.

Alec lay totally still on the bed, his hazel-green eyes closed as if in sleep, his breathing shallow and way too rapid. He'd lost consciousness 20 minutes earlier.

"He won't let me call an ambulance," Normal said. "He says he'll be killed if I do." The Jam Pony manager looked at his employee and lowered his voice. "Is it really that bad for them? For him?"

"Worse," Sketchy said, his own voice dead certain. "Certain people whom I can't mention want Alec dead almost as much as they want Max in a body bag. He's number two on the hit list, not to mention that the Army would just love to tear him apart in one of their labs."

"Can you call someone for help?"

Sketchy looked uncomfortable. "I ... I don't know. O.C. says Max's phone is bugged and we can't use it."

"Calvin!" Normal snapped. Sketchy jumped at the use of his real name. "He's dying! Either you do something or I'm calling an ambulance anyway."

Sketchy thought hard, then suddenly his eyes lit up. "I know how to get a message to Max," he said.

"Then do it!" Normal yelled. "And do it now." He glanced up at the wall clock -- 4 a.m. "It'll be light in an hour or so. How fast can you reach his people?"

Sketchy looked worried again. "I can leave a message, but I don't know how quick it'll be picked up. All I can do is try."

"Then try!"

"On it," Sketchy replied, and with one last worried look at Alec lying in what was essentially a pool of his own blood, he bolted out the door.

*****

"What do you mean Alec's not back?" Max said to Logan. "He should have returned hours ago." She looked at the time. It was nearly dawn. Alec should have been in and out of the dock office by midnight ... 1 a.m. at the latest. "If he's stopped off for fun along the way I swear I'll--"

"There were reports of shooting on the dock last night on the police scanner," Logan said, his voice carefully level.

Max whirled, her brown eyes wide. "When?"

"Midnight ... approximately. No details though. Nothing was found ... no arrests made. I'd hoped it was a coincidence. But now I've got to wonder. Maybe Alec ran into more trouble than he could handle."

Max swallowed hard. "I told him it was a two-man job," she said quietly. "But no. He had to play hero ... do things his way ..." Again she looked at the clock on Logan's desk. "Where the hell is he?"

Logan glanced at the phone, a land line that they didn't think was tapped. "Would he have called if he was in trouble?"

Max shook her head. "No. He knows our cells are tapped. He wouldn't want to risk his location or yours being pinpointed by White or the NSA." She was thinking. "Maybe he holed up at Joshua's for the night, if he couldn't get back for some reason."

"Max," Logan said quietly. "You could be right. Maybe Alec's just in hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance to contact us. But you've got to face it that there's another possibility. He could be--"

"No," Max said firmly, holding her hand out and not letting Logan complete the sentence. "I ... I can't think about that right now. As far as we know, Alec's just been delayed. Hell, he'll probably come waltzing in through the door any minute now with a pizza box in his hand."

"Max."

"Logan, he's not dead. He can't be dead."

"Max, if he was shot ... if the Yakuza or even White got to him ... the ocean's right there. His body would never even be found."

"Stop it," Max said quietly, resisting the urge to cover her ears, not wanting to think about Alec lying still and quiet like Ben. She reached for her black leather jacket that was hanging on the back of a chair. "I'm going to Joshua's."

"No," Logan said, standing. "It's too dangerous for you out there in broad daylight. Your face has been on every newscast at least once daily for the past month. I'll go."

Max eyed him dubiously, but realized Logan was probably right.

"I've got my car," Logan said. "And a valid sector pass. I'll be there and back within an hour."

She was still reluctant, but couldn't think of an argument. "Wire taps or not, let me know if you find him," she said.

"I'll call right away," Logan assured her as he grabbed his car keys.

*****

The first thing Logan noticed about Joshua's house was that the window blinds were up, meaning there was at least a message for him inside. However, that didn't necessarily mean Alec was there. More than likely it was word from O.C. about a supply shipment.

But when he opened the desk drawer, he immediately recognized Sketchy's handwriting on the hastily scrawled four-word note: "Alec. Jam Pony. Hurry!"

Logan started to call Max when he got back to his car, but he hung up before the first ring. Alec was obviously at Jam Pony, hence the note from Sketchy. But he really did want more details before getting Max's hopes up. Something was very wrong or else X5-494 would have come in last night.

*****

Shouldering his way through the crowd of kids at Jam Pony seemed like old times to Logan. In fact, he caught himself trying to spot Max in the coming and going bike messengers, just like he'd done so often in the past when visiting her here. Everything looked quite ordinary ... no sign of Alec. Which left only one possibility.

"Where is he?" he asked in a low voice as he entered Normal's office.

"About time one of you guys got here," Normal said in an equally quiet voice. The man's face looked haggard, almost as if he'd been crying, his usually well coiffed hair dirty and unkempt. More ominous was the condition of his blue shirt and tan slacks. They were not only wrinkled, but stained with what looked like blood. The Jam Pony manager glanced left and right, then carefully closed the office door and motioned for Logan to follow him. "Golden Boy's in bad shape, and I mean really bad. But, before he passed out, he begged me to not call an ambulance."

Normal opened a door to a small storage room off the main office where he'd moved the cot. The second Logan saw Alec he knew describing the young transgenic's condition as "bad" was an understatement. Lying on his back, eyes closed, his bare torso swaddled in a blood soaked bandage, it was obvious the X5 had been shot.

"He got here a little before one this morning," Normal said, his voice cracking with emotion at last, too tired to maintain his matter-of-fact facade. He reached down and took Alec's limp hand in his own, holding it as he'd probably done all night long, his way of keeping death at bay. "I did the best I could ... tried to slow the bleeding. The bullet's still in him, by the way. I thought for sure he'd be dead by morning, bled out, but he's breathing."

"His clotting factors have kicked in," Logan said, his blue eyes sad and serious as he gently inched the bandage up to check the damage. He picked up Alec's other hand, feeling for a pulse at his wrist, and when he had trouble finding it pressed fingers to the X5's neck. "His heartbeat's weak ... too fast and thready." Alec's skin felt cold as well, not hot to his human touch the way X5's usually did. "Damn," Logan said low under his breath. "He's in shock."

The wound was low on Alec's right side, in the abdomen, similar to the gunshot that had felled Max several months earlier and landed her in Harbor Lights Hospital. Transgenics might be tougher than ordinary humans, but they were hardly bullet proof.

"Can you get him back to Terminal City?" Normal asked, his own eyes worried. "Can his people patch him up? I heard transgenics have miraculous healing powers. Maybe he'll be all right on his own."

"Transgenics heal faster than you and me," Logan said. "But Alec's lost too much blood and he certainly can't heal with a bullet in him. Infection's bound to be setting in as well. How long has he been unconscious?"

"Hours."

Logan glanced at the time. It was after 8 a.m. Sighing heavily, he reached a decision and took out his cell phone. This would have to be brief or else they'd be traced and then Normal would be in trouble.

"I found him," he said into the receiver when Max answered with an anxious "Hello." "He's been shot. It's bad. I'm taking him to the hospital. There's no other choice." And before Max could say a word ... before she could argue, Logan hung up.

"They'll see his barcode," Normal commented as Logan began to lift Alec up off the bed. "At the hospital."

Logan shot the Jam Pony manager a desperate look, then reached out and gently turned Alec's head to one side. Alec had let his dark blond hair grow a bit longer in back, and it partially covered the black bars that marked him as military property. But it had been almost a month since he'd last lasered the code off, and the genetic tattoo was clearly visible.

"Hell," Logan muttered, wondering how on earth he could disguise the damning symbol.

Normal moved to the outer office, rummaged in a desk drawer, and returned with a small round container. "Would this help?" he offered.

It was make-up, flesh toned. Logan shot Normal a funny look, and Reagan Ronald just shrugged. "Sometimes my complexion needs a little attention," he said defensively. And as Logan continued to stare, "Hey! Lots of men use make-up nowadays. It's quite fashionable."

Whatever, Logan thought, snatching the container from Normal and smearing the make-up over Alec's barcode. The color wasn't a perfect match for the young man's skin, but at least it covered the thing.

"You taking him to the E.R.?" Normal asked, helping Logan lift Alec from the bed by getting under the transgenic's left shoulder.

"I don't see any other choice," Logan gritted as he hefted his half of Alec's weight and tried to ignore the blood dripping onto his shoes from the re-opened wound.

*****

Logan pulled his old and ugly, but reliable car (an Aztec affectionately dubbed "Bessie") up to the entrance of County General's emergency room, wheels squealing on the pavement. Hopping out of the driver's side he called out to two medics who were lounging against a wall having a smoke. "I've got a wounded man here!" Logan shouted. "He's been shot!"

Opening the car door, Logan leaned in over Alec's limp body, ruefully ignoring the blood all over his back seat. "I'm sorry buddy," he apologized in a low voice, although he doubted the transgenic could hear him. "It's the only way. You're hurt too bad for the TC medics to handle." He turned to the approaching orderlies who were pushing a gurney. "He's my brother," Logan breathed anxiously, beginning to spin the story he hoped would keep Alec's identity a secret. "I found him like this at his apartment. I think he was cleaning a gun that went off by accident."

*****

The Sector cop taking down details of the "shooting incident" involving one "Alec Cale" was looking skeptical, but so far no one was being arrested. Logan took that as a positive sign.

"You say you found your brother in his apartment like this?" the cop said, his swarthy face betraying no emotion beyond the suspicious glitter in his small dark eyes. Slightly overweight, none too tall, his features vaguely Hispanic, he was taking notes with the stub of a pencil.

"That's right," Logan confirmed. "He didn't answer his phone last night even though I knew he was supposed to be home. When I went to check on him this morning I found him like this. He has a small gun collection -- likes to target shoot on the weekends. It was obvious he'd been cleaning one of his pistols."

"What kind of pistol?" the officer asked.

Logan swallowed hard and turned to glance down the hallway toward the E.R. where they were working on Alec. He had no idea what kind of gun had been used in the shooting. Taking a deep breath, he bluffed. "I'm not sure. I'm not into that kind of thing like Alec is. He used to be in the military and has a real affinity for weapons, if you know what I mean." He looked seriously at the policeman. "Alec plans to apply to the academy pretty soon. He's always wanted to be a Sector Police Officer." He followed the statement with a weak smile at the very idea of Alec working as a Sector Cop, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick.

"If your brother was careless enough to shoot himself with his own weapon, I doubt he's academy material," the cop said coldly.

"I'll pass that along," Logan said, keeping his voice reasonable. "I'm not wild about the kid putting himself in the line of fire either. Although you know how it sometimes is with young people. They think they're invincible, no fear of death whatsoever."

"What's your brother's address?" the officer asked. "We're going to need to check out the scene."

"Fourteen twelve Pinecrest," Logan, rather proud of himself for lying almost as easily as Alec would have, giving the address of a large squatters apartment building. "Number three nineteen. Key's under the mat."

"Mr. Cale," a nurse interrupted.

Logan turned.

"Could you please come speak with the doctor regarding your brother?"

"Are we done?" Logan asked the officer.

"For now," the cop replied, his black eyes still suspicious. "But keep yourself available." He double checked the fake address Logan had given him. "And don't leave town."

"Wouldn't think of it," Logan replied easily, meaning the words, and hoping a single gunshot wound in a violent city like Seattle wouldn't warrant much of an investigation.

*****

"Mr. Cale," the on-call physician said, a young blond man with intense blue eyes and a physique that spoke of a racquet club membership. He drew Logan aside to a quiet corner of the busy emergency room. "We've sent your brother up to surgery. He's lost a great deal of blood, but his vital signs are holding, although he does seem to be running a temperature which could indicate peritonitis is already setting in. That's an infection in the abdomen caused by perforating the intestine. How long ago was the wound sustained?"

"I know what peritonitis is," Logan told the doctor. "And I believe he had the accident sometime yesterday evening, before midnight probably. Doctor, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but would you mind if I made a phone call and brought my own personal physician in on my brother's case? Dr. Carr knows Alec's medical history quite well."

"Not at all," the young intern said, glancing down at his notes. "However, there is something else I wanted to ask you about."

A premonitory chill raced down Logan's spine.

"Your brother's initial blood workup came back with an odd DNA marker, something I've never seen before. It might be a mistake. I've passed the information on to the CDC and ordered the test repeated but--"

Logan knew that he and Alec were in trouble. Any medical department head worth his degree would be able to spot a transgenic DNA marker by now, what with all the drama involving the Terminal City siege. Reporting transgenics was mandatory. Alec would be turned in first to the police, then the Army, and by this evening there would undoubtedly by an NSA guard posted outside 494's hospital room.

And then there was the always looming problem of Ames White. He'd gotten to both Max and Alec before when they'd been hospitalized. If old Ames got word that X5-494 was helpless at County General ... Logan didn't complete the thought. All he knew was that he had to get Alec back to Terminal City as soon as possible. It was the only place the transgenic would be safe. He glanced up at a wall clock. Alec had just been taken to surgery. There was nothing he could do right now but wait.

The physician was still talking, going on about CDC notification. Logan held up his hand to halt the flow of words. "I'm sure you mean well," he said to the doctor. "But my brother is a very private person. He'll never consent to further medical testing, nor does he need any. Normally, when he doesn't have a slug in his belly, he's a very healthy kid."

Just then Logan's cell phone rang. "Excuse me," Eyes Only said to the doctor as he moved away down the hall to a quiet alcove. "Max, you shouldn't be using the cells," he said low into the receiver. "You know they're tapped."

"How is he?"

"In surgery."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"Too early to tell. He lost a lot of blood, but at last report his vitals were good."

"That's something."

"Max," he said gently, reassuringly. "Alec's going to be all right. I won't let anything happen to him."

"But what if White--"

"We've been on the line too long. I'll be in touch soon." He hung up.

*****

Max stared at the cell phone in her hand, her mind going in a dozen directions at once. She wasn't just worried about Alec, but about Logan too. The two guys were extremely vulnerable outside, and taking an incredible chance seeking public medical help for Alec's wound.

But what alternative was there? Alec had apparently been hit really bad, his injuries more than what could be attended to in TC. At least this way he'd have a chance ... unless, of course, White found them, or they were arrested by the police, or taken into custody by the NSA ...

"Damn it," Max said softly, looking to Joshua for reassurance her dogman friend just couldn't give.

"Alec all right?" Joshua inquired. He, too, was terribly worried about the X5 whom he considered, next to Max, his best friend in the whole world. "Alec getting better? Coming home soon?"

"Alec and Logan are both going to be home soon, Big Fella" Max assured him, the words for herself as much as for Joshua. "Logan says the doctors are working on Alec now, and that he'll bring him back to TC just as soon as he safely can."

But deep down inside Max was still terrified. Transgenics healed twice as fast as ordinaries, but when she'd been shot in the stomach it had still taken her two days before she was able to get out of bed, and another week before the injury was healed to the point of not being a problem. Alec wasn't going to be leaping up off the operating table and throwing punches anytime soon. Which meant everything was up to Logan.

And right now, all she and Joshua could do was stare at the phone and wait.

*****

"Mr. Cale," a doctor said -- a different one this time, an older guy of about Logan's own age with a portly stomach and squinty eyes behind thick-lensed glasses. He'd once had a head of brown hair, but now all that was left was a wisp that decorated the tops of his ears.

"Yes," Logan said, glancing up from the magazine he hadn't really been reading.

The doctor looked around, as if making certain they were alone (which Logan found a bit odd) then took a seat across from him, his face grave.

"What's wrong?" Logan said.

"I'm afraid your brother's injuries were more serious than we first thought. He had lost a great deal of blood and was in deep shock."

"You said his vitals were good," Logan interrupted, not liking where this was going.

"They were," the doctor said, clearing his throat. "But they deteriorated during surgery. We tried to stabilize him but his heart stopped. We attempted to resuscitate, worked on him for almost half an hour in fact, but his circulatory system just shut down. I'm sorry. Your brother was pronounced dead at--" He glanced down at an official looking sheet of paper in his hand. "Ten thirty-nine a.m. You have my deepest sympathy."

"I want to see his body," Logan said instantly, his mind too numb with the news to think of anything better to say. My God, we've lost Alec!

"That can be arranged," the doctor replied. "Come back this evening and--"

"Now!" Logan demanded. "I want to see Alec now!"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," the physician said, glancing over his shoulder at a guard standing just down the hallway. "An autopsy has been ordered due to your brother's abnormal DNA. Afterwards you'll be allowed to view his remains and make funeral arrangements."

Logan stood, the faint whir of his exoskeleton audible in the suddenly silent corridor. "I ... want ... to ... see ... him ... now."

The guard was approaching. The doctor turned and said, "Would you please escort Mr. Cale out of the hospital. He can return this evening, but right now he needs time to come to terms with his brother's death."

Logan knew making a scene here wouldn't help. Part of him was still in shock, trying to accept the fact that he'd just lost another transgenic friend, someone who meant more to him than he'd ever realized ... someone who, whether she admitted it or not, meant the world to Max. But getting arrested for disorderly conduct wouldn't do anyone any good, not himself, not Max, and not Alec ... especially not Alec.

Besides, there was something else he had to take care of.

Once he was outside in the E.R. parking lot, Logan reached for his cell phone. "Max," he said when she answered. "I'm sorry. They just told me that Alec didn't make it through surgery. They told me he's dead."

*****

Max's heart skipped a big beat and her body grew cold at Logan's words.

"Are you sure!" she cried into the phone. "Did you see him? Did you see his body?"

"No," Logan replied levelly. "And that bothers me. They wouldn't let me see Alec. They said something about a mandatory autopsy and to come back tonight."

"Logan," Max said, not able to put enough urgency into her words. "They're lying. They've got Alec and he's still alive. You've got to get back in there and get him out before White shows up or they ship him off somewhere."

"You know, I've been thinking the same thing," Logan said, Max's analysis of the situation crystallizing his own.

"Do you need help? I can send someone ... a couple of X5s."

"No," Logan said firmly. "The more of our people we expose here the greater the chance we'll get caught. I'll go back inside and find out the truth. And if Alec's still alive, I promise you I'll get him out."

"Logan," Max said, knowing their time was limited. "Be careful." But Eyes Only had already hung up.

*****

"So nice to see you again, 494," a horrifyingly familiar voice whispered in Alec's ear.

Alec's eyelids fluttered and he told himself it was just a dream ... a nightmare. But when his bleary eyes focused on the the lean cruel face hovering above him, he knew it wasn't a nightmare after all. This was real. This was death.

"Fuck off," Alec rasped, his throat incredibly dry and scratchy. He coughed and for a second his eyesight darkened with the pain. Now he remembered. He'd been shot. He'd gone to Jam Pony ... Shit. Normal must have turned him in. And now White had his claws in him -- again.

As Alec expected, his wrists were handcuffed to the hospital bed, his feet tethered as well. But unlike last time, he didn't have the strength to break free. The throb in his abdomen, not to mention the numerous tubes running in and out of his body, told the whole story. He was in no shape to fight.

Which meant that the "someday" he'd once warned a pretty blonde girl in a bar about, was here.

He was going to be killed. White had absolutely no reason to keep him alive -- probably hadn't done the deed yet just because the sadistic piece of shit wanted to taunt him ... flaunt his victory. White knew he'd never give up Max ... knew he wouldn't talk ... knew his loyalty to his own kind.

"How'd you find me?" Alec asked, making conversation, trying to prolong his last few seconds of life.

"Your DNA markers turned up on a national data base," White said casually as he drew his gun from its shoulder holster. "I couldn't believe my luck when the data came up on our screen. I thought for sure I was going to have to break into Terminal City and personally run you to ground after our last little encounter."

"You mean when I kicked your ass?" Alec said, his eyes locking with White's, his gaze not wavering in spite of his fear.

White's vicious smile vanished. "There was unexpected interference," he said. "If that nurse hadn't come in you'd have spilled your guts for me -- and I do mean that in the literal sense."

"I'll never give her up," Alec said quietly.

"I know," White replied, as he screwed a silencer onto the barrel of the pistol. He hefted the weapon lovingly, then pressed the cold steel into the soft flesh of Alec's throat beneath his chin. "Goodbye, four nine--"

Suddenly the lights in the room went out.

"What the--! White yelled.

Alec's eyes instantly adjusted to the dark, his feline DNA giving him an edge over his attacker, not that watching his own death was his idea of an advantage. But White had turned and leveled the gun at the door, obviously expecting an attack. However, what he'd missed was the second door on the other side of the room. Alec had assumed it led to a bathroom. It did, in fact. But the lavatory was a shared one with another door leading to the neighboring room.

Seeing Logan Cale pop out of nowhere made Alec think for a moment that he really was dreaming. The whir of the exoskeleton alerted White, who immediately leveled the gun on the new arrival. However, Logan had the advantage of surprise. The metal tray he swung crashed against the gun which discharged into the back of a wooden chair. A second swing of the tray caught the Familiar up alongside the head with a resounding "gong."

White's eyes crossed and he slumped to the floor.

"Logan?" Alec said, still not quite believing this was happening.

"To the rescue," Eyes Only replied as he searched White's pockets for the handcuff keys. "They told me you were dead," the older man said, a bit breathless as he unlocked the cuffs.

"I almost was," Alec replied, meaning it. "Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it. Can you walk?"

Alec tried to sit up and the room swam as his side shrieked with agony. "No."

"Alec," Logan said, looking worriedly at the door that led into the corridor. "You've got to move."

"I don't think I can," Alec said truthfully. "Embarrassing as it sounds, I think you' might hafta carry me."

Logan stared at him. "Alec," he said. "In all the time you've known me, is there anything that makes you think I'm capable of carrying 178 pounds of dead weight down five flights of stairs?"

"True," Alec said, realizing that he'd been thinking in terms of his fellow X5s' strength.

Logan was thinking. "I'll get a wheelchair," he said. "You get yourself unhooked from those lines."

Alec nodded. He winced as he pulled the two large gauge I.V. needles from his arms. Then there was the not-so-small problem of the catheter ... He knew it would hurt to pull out, but he hadn't realized just how bad.

"Oww! Oh, God!" Alec hollered.

"What?" Logan said, poking his head back into the room. "Be quiet. The nurses will hear you."

"Geez," Alec said, tears streaming down his face as he threw the nasty rubber tubing on the floor. The pain of that little withdrawal actually made the ache in his side dim by comparison for a moment. Logan saw what he'd done and his eyes widened in sympathy. "Should have had a nurse do that, huh?" he said.

"No shit!" Alec spat as he levered himself up on his elbows and slid into the wheelchair. "Remind me to die before ever goin' to a hospital again." Feeling more awake than ever thanks to the pain, Alec began to assess their situation.

"Tell me you have a car."

"I have a car. Bessie's in the E.R. parking lot."

Glancing down, Alec noted that White was still out cold on the floor. So far, there hadn't been a sign of any other guards or cops.

"White must have bought off that doctor," Logan said. "Paid him to tell me you were dead and to isolate you up here so he could get at you. I searched half the hospital before I found you."

"We should kill him," Alec said, still looking at White. He's just gonna come after Max and me again ... you too now."

Logan eyed White's gun where it lay on the floor beside his hand. Alec was probably right. But Max was adamant about no killing, not wanting to give the transgenics a bad rap.

"No," Logan said. "We can't."

Alec was ready to argue that. But he also knew it was no use -- not when Cale was doing Max's bidding.

"Let's get outta here then," Alec said with a heavy sigh. "I wanna go home."

"Me too," Logan said, agreeing wholeheartedly.

*****

Alec was out again by the time they reached the tunnel that led to Logan's apartment and Terminal City, but Joshua was there to carry his friend. Later, after the X5 was safely asleep in the small city's infirmary and under the care of their best medics, Max sat with Logan in the living room of his new place.

"Thank you for saving him," she said.

"You're welcome," Logan said graciously, then added, "He accomplished the mission you know."

Her eyes widened with surprise. "He did?"

"According to Normal, the surveillance camera and schematics are safely tucked away in your old locker at Jam Pony. Alec had him put them there. I'll pick them up tomorrow."

"He shouldn't have done that job alone," Max said, blaming herself still. "Where do you suppose White is now?"

Logan shrugged. "Like Alec said in the car on the way here, the guy's probably got half a dozen fake passports and a map of the underworld. Who knows where he'll turn up next."

Max smiled. Only Alec could come up with a quip like that. She looked at Logan. "I'm not ready to be without him, you know," she said quietly.

"I know," Logan replied, sensing more to Max's words than she herself probably even knew. "I know."

*****

Later that night, Max crept into the infirmary. Standing by his cot, she looked down at X5-494 as he slept, his bare battered body covered by nothing more than a thin blanket, the bandage on his side and pale skin a grim reminder of just how close to death he'd come. Reaching out, she gently stroked soft, tousled dark blond hair back from her partner's forehead. With those keen hazel-green eyes closed in slumber, Alec looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

"Thank you, Logan," Max whispered in the dark, as her lips touched 494's in the most timid of kisses. "Thank you for saving him for me."

THE END