The sounds of police sirens rung with the usual air of regularity and normalcy in post-apocalyptic America as he raced through the still back alleys of Seattle on his motorcycle. Tonight would be just like every other night he had experienced since the world went crazy and totally bailed on his transgenic ass.

It's weird to think that he was once a part of that world, living the dream in a broken city. Now a guy can't even earn a decent living through hard work, persistence and crafty manipulation without evangelists and 'do-gooders' hounding the 'trannies'. Alec's mind flicked back to Biggs' broken body and he shivered, not from the cold – he couldn't much feel it, he was designed that way, but as if his body was rejecting the memory, shaking away a virus – a niggling thought.

The humans believed that they were the virus – the dirty transgenic freaks from Manticore, a lower form of life - not even life at all, when it was really humans, the 'norms' that were low. Biggs had never hurt anyone intentionally; he was just a decent, genetically-engineered super soldier looking to carve out a new life for himself. Some life. Alec was tense now. What had started out as a mission designated to him by Max, the new transgenic leader of sorts, to do some simple recon on a medical supplies warehouse had turned into one of his drawn out, high-speed motorcycle rides through the decrepit city he now called home. They'd become a habit now, or more of an outlet for his anger, frustration and rage. Rage at Max, at Manticore, at White and his Familiars, rage at the world and at himself. It gave him some space to breathe, to exist in his own head space for while, sort through the strange little thing that was his life.

His muscles tensed against his bike, his usually happy-go-lucky grin flattened into a terse line across his angled face. Maybe thinking wasn't such a good idea – cos it only seemed to make him angrier. There was a time when nothing really bugged Alec at all, and if it did, it could be solved by a trip to the local bar or a night of passion with some leggy blonde whose name he wouldn't remember in the morning. Alec sighed inwardly. Not anymore though. Everything seemed to wind him tighter and tighter, even Max's routine nagging was wedging itself into a place of high irritation in Alec's usually cool head.

Alec was stirred from his thoughts by the distant sound of footsteps and club music. Even in his reverie he had still been on high alert, had to these days, what with the leader of an ancient creepy breeding cult, the state's military and local vigilantes all out to get you and yours. He slowed his motorbike and darted into the darker shadows cast by the crumbling walls of centuries-old warehouses, his genetically enhanced vision piercing the obscurity to search out the source of his sudden concern.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched a guy and a girl who was obviously Miss Tonight emerge from another night club roaring in the seedy underbelly of a society that just didn't seem to care anymore. He was whispering sweet nothings, she was giggling through her obvious intoxication. Alec observed the couple until they disappeared around a corner, silently contemplating if he still had it – the now infamous Smart Alec charm he'd had to keep dormant while hiding out at Terminal City. Climbing off his bike he edged closer to the club's entrance. He shouldn't really – it's too dangerous, what if someone were to find out who he was? What he was? Would he end up like Biggs? Biggs. Alec winced against the thought again.

He wanted to lose himself, forget about Manticore and what they made him do, forget about the war and transgenics and running for his life – even if it was just for one night. He turned up the collar of his leather jacket in an attempt to disguise his barcode and headed toward the door. To hell with it. He was fed up thinking things through, which was more of a Max or Logan thing, Alec was action, and so that's what he'd do tonight.

************************************************************

Inside the club was warm from the masses of bodies pressing together and the lack of regulated air ventilation. It smelled of sweat, cheap beer and motor oil. The warehouse that now served as a club could have been a garage in its other lifetime. Alec edged over to the bar – he didn't really have the confidence thing working for him anymore. His eyes darted over the faces in the club – some dancing, some drinking beer, some relaxing on the couches. They were all the enemy and he was surrounded. He knew this was a bad idea. Why didn't he think with his brain rather than his…

His eyes drifted back over to the bar and that's when he saw her. Alone at the bar, she finished off her drink, licking its residue off her lips. He watched her closely, took in every movement of her body as she signaled to the bar keeper for another drink and then turned back to the bit of paper she was concentrating on in a determined manner. She was about the same age as himself, and wore cheap denim jeans – a patchwork of different colored denims, and a dark red tank top with some indefinable writing scrawled across the front of it. Her chocolate-colored hair tumbled freely down her back, messed up like she really didn't care what she looked like.

The leather jacket that hung over her knees while she sat at the bar completed the street punk look – though Alec wasn't that easily fooled. He could have easily fenced her watch for at least a grand. The girl had money, so there were two probable reasons why she was attempting to fit in at a place like this. One; she was meeting her lower class boyfriend in secret or two; she was looking to slum it for a night with a guy who wouldn't be able to track her down in the morning. He watched as another girl went to sit next to her. He saw the girl ask if the seat was taken, was she waiting for someone? The mysterious brunette shook her head. Bingo, Alec smirked. Looks like it was number two after all.

She felt his eyes on her long before he came over to the bar. She had a sense that somebody was watching her and suddenly felt very exposed. As the bar keep placed another drink down in front of her, she contemplated turning and walking out of this place, going home and forgetting she had ever come. She twisted a lock of her hair around her fingers nervously, and downed her gin in a mouthful, placing the glass delicately back on the bar. At that, a guy sidled over to her, a cocky smile planted on his youthful face.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Alec asked her confidently, dipping his head slightly and raising one eyebrow in wait for her response. She turned and faced him fully, getting off the bar stool and clasping her jacket in her hands, placing the bit of paper in one of its pockets. Her eyes met his; deep, forest green eyes locking with his mischievous light hazel ones. Her eyes searched his for less than a second, before she broke the connection, and narrowing her eyes answered him emotionlessly. "I'm going home". Alec raised his other eyebrow and put on his lost, hurt puppy dog look, but it was superfluous, she had already turned and started walking away. He stood dumbfounded for a second. What had just happened? His eyes followed her toward the exit. She turned suddenly, and asked almost expectantly, "Well, you coming?"

Outside, the cold air rushed up to meet them and she put her jacket on to shield against its biting fury. She watched him carefully as he surveyed the streets nervously. He didn't seem to notice the temperature change. She watched his eyelids flicker as he strained to hear. It was only for a moment but she thought she saw a faint hint of fear in his eyes, and then relief as a car rounded the corner and several young revelers jumped out. She wondered what he was afraid of.

He felt her staring at him, felt those dark emerald colored eyes excavating his soul. He turned to face her. "You got a ride?" She looked at him blankly. Further proof she wasn't from around here. "You know, like, wheels? A Car? A vehicle". He elaborated. She shook her head, ignoring the patronization in his voice. He grinned, "You like motorcycles?"

They were tearing down the streets at high speeds, Alec leaning into the sharp turns and Emerald Eyes holding on for dear life behind him. He could feel her body pressed against his - warm, soft and welcoming. She was curvy in all the right places, with a small build and soft features. She was not the most beautiful girl Alec had ever seen, but there was something in her eyes, narrow and sensual beneath dark lashes, that instantly drew him into her, holding him in a place transcending the world of flesh, mysteriously safe and wanted, protected and needed. He mentally shook himself. She is just an ordinary, Alec. How could she keep you safe? He felt her grip on his chest tighten as they rounded another corner and he grinned. Just another mortal norm, fearing death, hating life and searching for a fulfillment that would never come.

She could feel his heartbeat underneath her fingertips as she gripped his muscular body. It was regular and steady while hers was racing a mile a minute. Why was she so nervous? He was just another street dweller, searching for an easy night, and she would be gone in the morning, she'd never have to see him again. The thing that she feared though, was that she might want to. She felt so alone, so lost, drifting listlessly in the world, without purpose, without being. For a moment when she'd met his eyes at the bar, she'd thought that he was lonely too, that they had a connection. But she knew she had only been fooling herself, looking for something in him that just wasn't there. Maybe it was to make what she was about to do less wrong, that maybe it wasn't just physical – but there was no excuse, no higher reason, just simple gratification. And that made her feel empty.

************************************************************

Alec pulled to a stop out the front of his old apartment, not far from the club where they had met. He did a quick study of the surrounding area to make sure no-one was staking the place out, and, satisfied he was safe, jumped off the bike to help… he didn't know her name. It just occurred to him. He should at least ask and make it seem like he cared. Or maybe he did care. He offered his hand out to her; she took it and stepped off the motorcycle. Her face looked flushed as she turned to him. "That was…" she began, but Alec finished her sentence off. "Thrilling?" He inquired with a quick flick up of his eyebrows. She loved the way he seemed to talk with his eyebrows. "Life threatening" she quipped and looked up at the apartment building. He followed her gaze and looked up at the building too. "I'm Alec" he whispered simply. Without looking at him, she nodded. That was it? She wouldn't even tell him her name? Well, whatever moves her furniture…

Familiar smells rushed back to greet Alec as he entered his old apartment. He watched her survey the room, taking in her surroundings. She was observant – like him. He smiled. "Nice place", the girl with no name commented as she wiped her hand over the table that served as his bar and raised it, covered in dust. "Yeah, not much of a cleaner" he answered with another cocky yet charming grin. He walked over to her, picking up a glass as if offering to pour her a drink. She shook her head. She felt him tense up beside her. Was he angry? She turned into him, closing the distance between them, placing a hand gently on his heart. She felt the steady, rhythmic beat beneath her palm.

He was startled by her sudden closeness, and the glass fell from his hand, slipping through his fingers as though they had suddenly ceased to work, and bouncing onto the table. At least it hadn't broken. He could smell her as he breathed in – an intoxicating mix of musk, motor oil (he guessed was from his motorcycle) and her own unique scent. He ran a hand gently through her wind-tousled hair before cupping her petite face in his hands. He leant in and kissed her slowly, gently. She closed her eyes, letting her hand slide up from his heart, over his chest and behind his head, running her hands through his hair.

He could feel her fingertips on his bare neck – flesh against flesh, and his heart started to race. She let her hands slide back down to his shoulders, pulling his jacket off as they migrated, soon finding their way underneath his shirt, scrunching it up at the bottom and pulling it up over his head. They had to break the kiss in order for this maneuver, but they kept their bodies touching. He began working on her jacket, letting it drop to the floor before pulling her top gracefully over head, her hair tumbling back down onto her shoulders and dancing around the soft edges of her face. He could feel her skin beneath his fingers, soft and smooth, contrasting the roughness of his own. For a brief moment a thought that maybe he wasn't good enough for her – that she deserved someone far better than himself crossed his mind. It was, of course, hastily abandoned as she began working on his belt buckle.

The night seemed to go on forever. It was as if they existed apart from the real world, apart from the police sirens that rang shrill around them, apart from the humming of fluorescent lights, apart even from the bed he took her gently on, loving her, exploring her, and finally, when the moment came, taking her hard yet tenderly beneath him. In the moments after, Alec rested on top of her, the energy from their bodies percolating into the still air around them. He would have stayed with her like that forever if he could have, but his ever present caution caused him to roll onto his back so as to hide the barcode on his neck. She rolled onto her side as he moved, her hand languidly taking its place on his chest just over his heart. She felt the steady beat beneath her fingers, and almost deliberately, it calmed her into a contented sleep.

Alec sensed her fall asleep beside him, her breath becoming shallow and her delicate hand resting on his bare chest slackened. He sighed. He'd have to move soon, Max would be expecting him back at Terminal City with reports about the supply warehouse. But he could hear her breathing, a soft, almost cadenced resonance, and with every breath he took he was inundated by the after scents of their lovemaking and the rich musk perfume she wore. His eyelids grew heavy, and his arm moved protectively around her shoulders, cradling her into him. With a reluctant sigh, Alec entered a deep sleep.

************************************************************

The dawn was cracking the pollution-filled sky before Alec stirred again. He woke disorientated and confused. Where was he? The usual nightmares had haunted him last night – Manticore, Rachel, Biggs, visions of Terminal City… but he had awoken in a strange place. No, wait, it hadn't been strange to him some time ago. It was his old apartment. He took in the once-familiar scene with his keen sight - the magazines, a broken chair, the over-stuffed lounge and paint-peeling walls. Sighing, he went to sit upright, when he noticed a slight weight on his chest. He glanced at her slender hand, not having moved from its resting place last night. His eyes traced up her arm, over her supple white skin; skin, he realized now as she lay bathed in the morning light, that was far lighter than his own, smooth and unmarked, a sign of a privileged life.

His eyes rested on her oval face, its features softened as she slept. Her eyes were closed, but he could still remember their vividness, their rich green depths and all-seeing qualities. Her hair was strewn over her shoulders and the pillows, a stray strand hanging in front of her face. He gently brushed the hair away, his fingertips dancing on her skin as he did so. He was entranced by the sleeping woman, his eyes unable to move from the glow of her skin and her musky scent. He had known that it would only be for one night, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to move, to disturb her peaceful sleep. He watched her closely. He now realized how incongruous she had been in the club, dressed in her street clothes. She was refined, delicate, and… innocent in a way that those who had faced the harsh reality of life below the poverty line could never be.

Curiosity killed the cat, they say, and he did have feline DNA, so he couldn't really blame himself for wanting to know more about this girl, it was a matter of simple genetics. He took her hand tenderly, moving it from his chest so he could get out of bed. She stirred slightly, nestling herself into the mattress. Alec held his breath, hoping she wouldn't awake. When he had determined that she was in fact asleep, he pulled on his clothes and then headed to the pile of her clothes on the floor. Fishing through her leather jacket, he found the bit of paper she had been reading at the bar and unfolded it. He skim read most of it, but gathered enough to determine that it was the closing statement to a court case, hand written. She must have been memorizing it.

He glanced over to her on the bed and raised an eyebrow in speculation. A lawyer, who'd have guessed? Well, that explains the watch anyway. He searched around in her pockets for other incriminating items, but found only lip-gloss, chewing gum and a perfume spray that he imagined contained the delectable musk scent he had grown to love… like. He sighed. She remained a mystery – he still didn't even know her name. Carrying no ID, not even a sector pass, meant that she had to live in the area. Highly doubtful, he concluded, seeing as how most of the places in this district were either derelict or over-run with squatters. Another mystery.

He heard her stir and sigh, signaling his time to leave, and without a word or any further delay, Alec clicked the door to his apartment closed and headed down the corridor. He paused, feeling for a moment like a man who should turn back. Like he wanted to turn back, take her in his arms and hold her, discover her name and why she was at the club, be engulfed by her delicious scent and feel her soft skin beneath his fingertips. But he didn't turn back.

While part of him screamed to go back to her, another part urged him on ahead, back to Terminal City, to his mission, to others of his kind. It told him that if she were to know what he really was she would hate him, despise him. Her skin would shudder at his touch; she would be repulsed by his mere presence. It reminded him that he wasn't a man and that he never would be, that he was different from her in a way that made it impossible for them to be together. She was a norm, imperfect in her creation with mortal weaknesses and fears, and he was a genetically engineered soldier, part man, part animal and designed to be perfect and superior to the mere humans. But if he was fearless, then why was he afraid of what he was feeling? And if he was perfect, why did he feel flawed in comparison to her gentle radiance?

She heard the faint click of the door as he closed it quietly behind him. She laid sill for several moments. He had gone. What had she expected? Eggs and toast for breakfast? No. She knew as much as he did that they had been one night and no more. No morning after or indolent breakfast together. She was by herself again, like she had always been, and the way she preferred it. She was totally together without a man in her life. Besides, they were too different. He was obviously from another world to her, cos judging by the way he had left in such a hurry, this wasn't his apartment. His clothes screamed 'punk' at her, and his wry grin and self-reliance suggested he was used to fending for himself. She understood that if he knew the truth about her, he would turn away from her, reject her because of who she was. She was affluent and successful, and he was probably struggling through life with either low paying or low moral jobs and no future. But if she was so together, then why did she feel so alone? And if she was so successful, why did she feel so worthless balanced against his audacious confidence?

One thing they were both certain of – opposites attract, and last night they were electric with an energy and sensation neither of them had ever felt before