So I was reading yet another of the great stories on this site and I stopped to think: I don't care if Max is the hottest female ever to walk the planet. A rational guy will only take so much crap before he gets irritated and walks away. But I was conflicted because I totally adore Max and Alec as a couple. This is the result.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except my mistakes (I never even proofread my stories, let alone have someone else do it). Feel free to correct my grammar and spelling or to tell me what you think.

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It began with a little friendly ribbing; most of them did. He was lightening the atmosphere with inappropriate joking and she was peeved that he would dare try that in such a serious situation. It was a standard argument that they'd been having together – publicly – almost every day since they had claimed Terminal City as their own five months ago. In fact, she didn't mean most of the things she said to him. It was actually a way she let off steam. Luckily, he was so easy-going and such a screw-ball that he didn't care. It was a win-win situation.

Only it wasn't.

At some point in the last few months, Alec had quit letting her words roll off of him. He'd started to take them personally, to express hurt in his expressions when she called him nasty names, and to bristle whenever she made a long list – once again, publicly – of all of the dumb things he'd done. Most of them had occurred before TC.

But she didn't notice this. She was so relieved to be getting her stress out in a nonviolent way that her focus was never actually on him when these "discussions" came up. And he had agreed to be SIC to her CO position, so what could he really do about it. Abandoning his people would be so very . . . 09er of him. That was a description he refused to take under any circumstances whatsoever.

So many things had become catalysts for these times. Today, it was him returning late from a supply run. Granted, he was only two hours late, but he'd taken some X6s with him, and Max had had a really bad day. She blew up. By the time she was finished with her opening argument, everyone had left the room except Dalton, and he'd stayed only out of loyalty to Alec. He kept trying to get a word in edge-wise to defend his precious hero, but neither of the older transgenics were interested in hearing what he had to say.

Fully expecting retaliation for what she knew was an unfair accusation, Max was surprised when Alec looked at her sedately, then turned to his latest partner-in-crime. "Dalton, give me the number."

Said teenager's eyes widened almost comically. "W-what?" he stammered out, taking a step back.

"What number?" Max queried. Predictably, she was ignored.

"You heard me," Alec snarled to Dalton.

"I really think you should –"

"Give me the damned number!" Alec roared in his best CO / Alpha Male tone.

This time, Dalton immediately and almost involuntarily complied, snatching a slip of paper from one of his pockets and handing it over. Alec ripped it out of his hands and started dialing on his phone.

"What number?" Max repeated. "Who's he calling?"

Dalton gave her a look that was a complicated mix of pleading helplessness and blame. Only she wasn't yet sure what she was being blamed for.

Alec held his phone to his ear and stepped far enough away that neither of his companions could hear more than his own side of the conversation. And they were listening pretty intently.

"I want to meet," he snapped. Then he paused, listening to the response. "No, you idiot – I want to meet NOW. Not tomorrow, not in a week . . . NOW." Pause. "You really must have a low opinion of my intelligence. But then, since the only people you have to compare me to are ordinaries and yourself, it's no wonder you think everyone's dumb." Another pause. "Yeah, okay. Alone is good with me. Not in the mood for company, anyway."

"What is –" was all Max got out before Dalton interrupted her with a nearly-tearful "Alec, don't."

Alec snapped his phone shut and stalked back to where the two of them were waiting. "Something came up," he said to Max. "I have an emergency meeting to attend. Perhaps you can finish this conversation with Mole?" Then he turned to Dalton, and Max watched in utter amazement as his cold facade totally melted away to reveal a pleasant man underneath. "Thanks, kid," he said fondly. He opened his mouth to say more, but then obviously thought better of it as his jaw snapped shut and he turned to leave the room. Max was too mystified to move, but Dalton didn't share the paralysis. He leapt forward, snagged a handful of his mentor's jacket, and dug his feet in.

"Please don't do this," he begged. His back was to Max by then, but she could hear tears in his voice. What was going on?

Surprisingly, Alec smiled, gently removed Dalton's hand, and replied, "It's okay. It's just a simple meeting." then he walked away. Dalton tried to follow, but this time it was Max who stopped him, her hands closing around his shirt and lifting him off the floor.

"Leggo," he complained, eyes trained on the closing door.

"What's going on?" she insisted.

When his gaze met hers, she was taken aback by the sheer ferocity in it. "Like you care," he growled. "Let go."

She dropped him, at which point he scampered out the door. Not really wanting to dwell on whatever had just happened, she started thinking of how irritated she was that Alec hadn't let her get all of her stress out before leaving. How dare he leave her not only stressed, but confused?

When she finally came back to herself enough to realise she'd been pacing up and down the halls of Terminal City, Max went straight to Command, where she found the two people she was looking for: Mole and Dix.

"Where's Alec?" she grumbled.

Mole, who had been going over some paper with Dix, looked up disinterestedly. "Aren't you Pretty Boy's keeper?"

"He left. I need to find him."

"Don't you think if he left he might not have wanted you to find him?" Mole inquired, in a poisonously polite voice.

"That doesn't matter!" she yelled.

At this point, Dix muttered something about needing to check the calculations of some system or other, and inconspicuously tried to back out of the room. Max caught his movements out of the corner of her eye and yelled, "Don't you DARE go anywhere!" He stopped moving.

Mole, meanwhile, was acting as though this conversation was about what color of shirt he should wear – if he started wearing them – rather than loud shouting. He took a long drag on his cigar, rolled it to the other side of his mouth, and then eventually reached up to pull it out. "Maybe you should just leave Pretty Boy alone."

"It's not even any of your business," she said through her teeth.

"Oh, actually, it's very much my business. Because Princess really basically runs this place while you 'take care' of things that don't matter. And if he's not happy, I'm not happy."

Max was just about to release the scathing retort she had on the tip of her tongue when the door slammed open, and Dalton ran in. He was breathing heavily, looking maniacal, and didn't seem to notice Max was in the room. He charged straight to Mole, grabbed a handful of shirt in a move remarkably similar to the failed one he'd tried on Alec only minutes ago, and looked up at the transhuman.

"He made the call," he said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

Max honestly expected this statement to be met with the same confusion she'd been feeling since watching her SIC stalk away in the middle of an argument. It wasn't.

Mole's eyes widened. "What?" He didn't wait for confirmation of whatever fear he was experiencing before accusing eyes snapped up to Max. "What did you do?" he asked.

"What? I didn't do anything. We were having a civil conversation when he suddenly asked for a phone number, set up a meeting, and left."

"You let him leave?"

"You're the one who told me I should leave him alone!" she said back, confusion being replaced with anger again.

"I didn't think even you would let him do something like this!" Mole snarled. Then he turned to Dix. "Trace his phone," he ordered brusquely.

Dix, though, was already doing just that. Whatever bad, stupid, screwed-up thing Alec had done this time, apparently Max was the only one in Terminal City who didn't know about it beforehand. It was also apparently quite serious; it had three generally unruffleable people edgy and concerned.

"He turned it off," Dix announced sadly a few minutes later. Dalton groaned and Mole sighed loudly.

"Find him, anyway," he said. "Get a team and find him. NOW."

Dix and Dalton both ran out of the room while nodding. Mole ran a hand over his eyes and down his face, then reached for the table, where he had a few guns placed. Max watched this curiously, then asked, "Mind telling me what's going on?"

The transhuman looked up quickly, having forgotten she was in the room. He scowled. "Sure. Fine. You made Princess mad. He decided to leave Terminal City and sacrifice himself for us. You suck and you have crap for brains. Did you get lost anywhere in there?"

She forced her rising ire down a bit because her curiosity was higher on her list of priorities at the moment. "Sacrifice himself?" she repeated in a shockingly calm tone.

"You mean you didn't know?" Mole asked, also calming down when he realised she wasn't just trying to annoy everyone. She shook her head unnecessarily, and he went on, "Oh. Uh . . . Alec decided that if he ever wanted to leave Terminal City, he was going to give himself up to try to offer us some more freedoms."

"Give himself up to whom?"

Mole looked sidelong at her. "White, of course," he said breezily. "A pre-ordained deal. White gets X5-494, and we get government support."

"So why is this such a big deal?" Max asked honestly. "Can't we just go find him and rescue him?"

The scaly transhuman was already shaking his head. "Do you think I'd be panicking if that were an option? No, Alec planned for that. He said if it ever came to that, he wouldn't want to come back. Ever."

This news was sinking in rather slowly for Max. "Uh oh," she muttered shakily. "Not good."

"No, not good," Mole agreed. "Which is why we need to find him before he's permanently gone."