Title : Monstrous

Fandom : Dark Angel

Prompt : Lily asked for something dark and suspenseful with either Alec or Ben from Dark Angel (and just for Alex's reference – there was no requirement for Logan to be in the fic *wink*) Thanks have to go to alex_kade for her beta on this – I shudder to think what it would have been like without her.

Characters : Alec, OC, Max

Word Count : 3,000 words approx.

Rating : PG-13 – This is angsty.

Disclaimer : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Monstrous

Alec jerked awake, jaw clenched to keep himself quiet, hands fisted in the bedding that surrounded him, sweat cooling in the night air. He looked around, checking every corner for . . . He didn't even know what he was looking for, but the threat was there. He knew it was.

What he didn't know, though, was what kind of threat it was. He tried to calm his nerves, but still he found himself reaching for the lamp on the nightstand and flicking it on for a more thorough check of his surroundings and, he hoped, the reassurance that he needed to dispel the last of the nightmare. He shuddered, and the feeling of not being alone didn't dwindle, like it hadn't in days now. Or . . . Alec shivered, it was more than days, more than weeks. Soon he'd be able to count months if he was honest.

He drew his knees up to his chest, clasped his hands together around them, and tried to pull himself back together again. He forced himself to move, to get out of bed and physically check the room. He didn't stop, instead extending his search out into the rest of the apartment. There was nothing there. Nothing. Nothing and no one, just like he had known there would be.

He made his way back to his bedroom, pulled on some clothes, trying not to think back over the dream – nightmare – that had woken him. He jerked upward as an image of teeth flashed into his mind again. He shuddered, breath uneven for a while as he worked hard to push the image away from his mind and focus on the here and now of his surroundings.

He picked up his jacket and headed for the door. He paused on reaching the stairwell, looking up and down. There was no one there, the whole building seeming to be silent. "There's no threat here, no one else is here. Just you," he murmured to break the silence and prove to himself that he was alone. He began to climb the stairs, one step at a time, increasing his pace steadily two steps, then three, before blurring upward as if trying to outrun an invisible pursuer.

He was gasping for breath by the time he reached the roof, staggering through the door and out into the fresh night air. He bent over, hands on his knees as his breath sawed in and out of his burning lungs. "The High Place," he muttered, eyes scanning his surroundings. He backed himself up against the nearest wall, looking around frantically. Still nothing, yet the feeling of not being alone, not being safe persisted. He shuddered, back rubbing against the brick roughly. He clenched his fists, arms wrapping tight around his stomach. "No," he croaked hoarsely, head dropping back against the wall abruptly. "No, no, no!"

He closed his eyes, tried to focus, but instead was hit by another image of shackles and teeth. His knees folded and he found himself curled into the tight corner. He trembled violently, muttering, "I'm high. I'm high enough. There's no one here." He curled tighter still, knees pulled up to his chest as he rested his forehead on them.

With a sudden jerk, he pushed himself up from the ground, running for the door to the stairwell and heading full pelt down the stairs to the ground floor. He wanted to shout, to scream, but he kept his lips pressed tightly together until he was too out of breath to scream and instead drew great gulping breaths as he continued his descent.

Breaking out through the front doors to the building, he headed for his bike, kicking back the stand as he jammed the key in the ignition and started the engine. It roared to life, loud and ferocious in the quiet of the night. He lifted his feet and sped into the darkness.

O.C. watched as Alec almost slid into Jam Pony. He came in through the door and his eyes were flitting around constantly, his back was close to the wall and most of his old, cocky swagger was absent. The dark shadows beneath his eyes were beginning to look like someone had punched him, stark against the pallor of his skin.

She'd never seen a Transgenic look so ill, but he was saying nothing. She'd tried a few times over the last week to get him to talk to her, but he just made light with stories of noisy neighbors or late night parties. It didn't ring true, though; she could see the weight in his eyes, the struggle against something, but she had no idea what.

As if to prove her point that something was wrong, Alec made his way directly to Normal, picked up the next deliveries and headed straight out. Alec, who had mastered the art of time-wasting and sucking up to Normal in the first hour of being at Jam Pony, was now working double time. If he hadn't looked so ill and exhausted, OC suspected it might have been trouble for them all because he could have been covering so much ground using his Transgenic skills. Right now, she wasn't sure how he was putting one foot in front of the other.

Max sauntered in through the doors a few minutes later, a stark comparison to her brother of sorts. She hadn't wanted to listen last time OC had tried to say something, but OC knew that it had to be frustration with him, not really that she didn't care. Plus he'd been so scarce over the last week or so that OC wasn't sure Max had seen up close just how bad he now looked.

OC had waited until they were home and alone to try and broach the subject. "Max, you need to go see him," she tried, knowing that Max would know who she meant. "There's something wrong. D'you think maybe it's a DNA thing? Maybe, you know, the seizures or something?"

Max nodded. "I'll stop in on my way back from Logan's after I've checked on Joshua. He didn't look well, but you know he could ask for help. He could have said if something was wrong."

"Girl, don't be stupid! He's a boy; boys don't ask for help! Have you ever known him to ask for help before? Boys can't admit something is wrong!"

Max sighed, accepting the truth in OC's words. In truth she'd been pretty shocked when she'd seen Alec just before the end of the day, surprised by the defensiveness with which he moved and by his haggard appearance. She'd tried to approach him then, but it wasn't like they could have any serious discussions in front of other people, and he'd looked almost terrified at her approach. She'd reached for him and felt the tremor that was coursing through him. OC's concern about seizures might not have been wrong. She couldn't put off checking on him any longer.

It was pretty late by the time Max finally made it to Alec's apartment, but she could hear the sound of movement on the other side of the door so she didn't feel quite so bad about knocking. Her hand fell to her side as she waited. The movement inside stopped and there was nothing. She knocked again when it became clear Alec wasn't answering. Still nothing, so the third time she knocked, she called out his name as well. She'd heard movement, but none of it approached the door, and in frustration she reached down to her boot for the set of lock picks she usually only needed to use on jobs for Logan, making quick work of the lock and entering the dark apartment.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of light inside, searching for Alec. She moved forward carefully, wondering what the hell he was playing at. "Alec," she called softly into the darkness. "Alec, it's Max."

There was enough movement for her to pinpoint his position in the bedroom as she stood in the doorway. She reached a hand up to the light switch and flicked it on, flooding the room with light and forcing herself to wait where she was.

Alec's eyes were wild, terrified and confused; as Max stepped forward, he moved, pushing past her and running for the door. She turned to follow, slamming the door closed behind her before tearing down the stairs in pursuit. She had no idea what was going on, but from what she'd seen in his eyes, it was nothing good.

He was running. He hadn't even paused for his bike. She gave herself scant seconds to come to a decision, leaping on to her own bike and setting off in pursuit. It would be better to have energy left when she caught up with him; he wasn't rational and who knew what he could try to do. She was grateful for her own good eyesight and the training she'd had that let her follow him and for his own lack of attention to covering his tracks.

Whatever was wrong was big, and she had no idea what she was going to do when she finally did catch him again.

She couldn't quite decide whether to be surprised when she trailed him to the Space Needle. His speed had barely dropped the whole way there and she was quick to secure her bike and follow him up the stairs inside. She could hear his ragged breathing ahead of her, the furious clatter of his feet on the steps above. She heard him lose his footing once or twice on loose debris in the deserted building, heard him thump onto the stairs, swearing before struggling back up to his feet and resuming his ascent.

She was getting closer but she was still no nearer knowing what he needed her to do. This was nothing like she'd ever had to deal with before. She heard him stagger out on to the roof and she knew she had to hurry, not wanting to consider the possibility that he might not stop running. She stood in the doorway looking out at him.

All his strength and energy had gone. He was like a lost little boy on a precipice and she needed to bring him back home. "Alec," she called softly. "Alec, sit down . . . please. Let's talk, let me help you."

"Don't call me that," he murmured brokenly. "Don't call me that."

She moved closer, saw him flinch and stopped short, deciding to lower herself to sit down instead, hoping he would calm down when he recognized she didn't intend to be a threat to him. He wasn't meeting her eyes, but she could see that he was tracking her movements. "What do you want me to call you?" she asked quietly, trying to figure out how to be softer and more patient with him than she'd ever been before.

He shook his head, started to turn away from her before just seeming to fold up and crash down on to the floor. She reached for him, afraid he might slip over the edge before he seemed to pull himself together enough to sit up, knees drawn up to his chest, eyes staring blankly out into the distance. She edged closer, remembering her time with Zach, slipped an arm across his shoulder and pulled him to her, surprised to see tears streaking down his face.

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely, trying to pull away, but she just tightened her grip and he stayed rigidly against her.

"Why?"

"I'm not him, it's not me . . ." He tried to push himself upward again, fighting her hold and heading for the edge of the roof.

"No! Alec, no!" she cried, holding on, determined that he wouldn't get any closer to the edge.

"I'm not him. I never was – he doesn't exist." The tears were falling freely down his face. His pain and despair were so reminiscent of Ben, it hurt her to look. "I have to do this, Maxie. I'm broken and I can't be that person any more, I don't want to go back."

"There's no Manticore to go back too," she said softly. "We can work this out." He just shook his head again at her pleas. "I can't lose you too, Alec."

"Leave me, please," he begged. "I – I can't have you here this time. I made you – made you do it for me last time. I won't do it again. I'm sorry, Maxie." He took a step closer to her, leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry for it all."

She didn't let him go, taking hold of his face and looking into his eyes as she said, "You have to explain or . . ." The words choked off and she couldn't finish.

"They found me . . . last time, they found me and took me back to Manticore. Amazing what they can do, isn't it? Even death wasn't enough and I can't ask you to help me again, but I don't want to be that person again and I can't, Max, I can't keep it under control, he's breaking out of me. I didn't know, I swear I didn't know, but he's there, I'm there – all the time."

His words were jumbled and she couldn't make sense of them, but she didn't let go. "Who's breaking out?"

"493."

He looked heartbroken, devastated by the confession and she just pulled him tighter. "You're not Ben. I don't know what's happening to you, but you're not Ben," she reassured. She took a few steps back from the edge, pulling him with her. It wasn't enough to be safe, it would take nothing for him to twist and take a couple of steps before plunging over the side, but every step away counted at the moment. "You're not 493," she said again determinedly.

She held him close, finally realizing that this was something that had been plaguing him for weeks. He was thinner, lighter than she expected him to be. She thought back to the night she'd told him about Ben, what it had been like to hold him then. She pulled him a few more steps away from the edge, closer to the doorway, guiding him until they both sat down together in the frame of the door. She swept a hand through his bangs, registering as she did so his elevated temperature.

"I'm sorry, Maxie," he murmured, leaning into her.

She coasted her fingers through his hair. "Tell me about it."

"I didn't know, I didn't remember anything until . . . until a few days after you told me about how Be–, I died. I started to dream, dream of teeth and heights and fear. I dreamed of shackles and blood and I didn't know, I swear I didn't know."

Max could hear the exhaustion in his voice, felt guilty that she'd ignored OC's warnings that something was wrong. He was falling apart and she almost hadn't noticed until it was too late, and now she had no idea what to do to make it right. What made it worse was that clearly she had been the trigger for this happening to him.

"You're not Ben . . . it's not possible. The barcode."

He looked at her for a moment. "The barcode's a DNA thing, it's why we can never get rid of them completely. Why wouldn't Manticore have worked out a way to change that along with everything else if they were re-indoctrinating someone?" He was shivering and she wasn't sure whether it was the cold wind and drizzle when all he was wearing was a t-shirt and jeans, or whether it was the memories.

"Why change a barcode? They didn't need to do that."

"To convince me I was someone different, so there was nothing to trigger the memories. To convince anyone who'd met me before that I wasn't that clone who'd killed all those people."

"You aren't him. Even – even if you were, you aren't him anymore."

"He's out, though . . . I can hear him, Max. I can hear him telling me what to do."

Max swallowed at the implications of that. She reached up and turned his head so their eyes met and asked, "And have you done anything that he told you?"

"No. No, I haven't. I don't want to be him again. It's why . . ." his hand gestured to the sky beyond the edge of the roof. "They wouldn't be able to put me back together again then." His head dropped in defeat. "They wouldn't win," he murmured.

"We'll find a way, trust me. We won't let them win." He slumped against her, the last of his resistance swallowed up by exhaustion. They sat in silence for a while until the damp began to seep through Max's jacket, and she was reminded of how little Alec was wearing and the temperature he'd had earlier. "We need to go down, Alec." She used the name softly, hoping he'd accept it. She watched as he looked back to the edge of the roof as if contemplating its lure.

"You'll help?" he asked softly. She nodded and he started to stand. "Okay," he said standing up slowly. He reached out for the frame of the door to steady himself, then closed his eyes for moment as she slipped herself under his arm with a hand around his back for support. "It'll still be here," he muttered with one last look at the skyline.

It was a terrifying thought, but Max knew he was right. Inside him there now lurked a monster, a monster they wouldn't necessarily be able to control.