Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel, James Cameron does.

My Turn

"We've lost him," Mole growled, throwing a table against the wall.

"Continue CPR!" ordered Max and the crying X6 obeyed—half blinded by tears, but not slowing the compressions.

"Max," Dix took her arm gently, "Dr. Carr won't be able to do anything for him when he gets here. Alec would need a full transplant from another X5 and there isn't a donor."

"I said continue CPR!" Max shoved Dix out of her way and went to administer rescue breaths along side the X6. She wasn't crying. Mole wanted to curse at her. He wanted to kick her across the room and ask if she was really proud enough to believe that she could still save her sidekick.

Dix tried to interrupt again, but Luke broke in with the doctor in tow. Max ordered Mole to take over breathing, but he didn't. She had to keep breathing for Alec—it was important to maintain the circulation of oxygen or brain damage could occur. When Max felt Dr. Carr's hand on her elbow and heard him repeat Dix's empty platitudes, she knew that it was time—that he would understand what had to be done.

Max pulled the gun from Alec's waistband. It was a strangely self fulfilling prophecy—her refusal to use guns—she'd always known they would be the death of her. Max pressed the nozzle just behind her ear, ignoring the sick, shocked look on every conscious face in the room.

"Thanks for coming, Sam," she said calmly. "We don't have the experience to do a transplant."

"Max?"

"Alec needs a heart," Max grinned, "I've been saying that since the day I met him. Mine's only a loner, but it will have to do."