Summary: The team encounters an Alpha that has spun a web of hundreds of lies, and one of those lies has Gary stuck in the middle of it all.

Note: The point of view of the story shifts from one character to another. The person who is speaking is in the title of each chapter. Rated T+ for language and possible future situations. R&R, be kind, first fic in a looooong time! I'm trying to get an Alphas RPG together as well, if you're interested, check out the link in my profile!

Disclaimer: I do not own Alphas, or any of the characters. Most of the information/situations were researched; however there may be a few misnamed facts. This is for entertainment only.

Alphas

1: "Rachel"

Two sets of shoes. Walking, no running now. One pair of stiletto heels, the other men's work shoes, Dockers. The woman's feet move at fast, short intervals. The man's feet are quick, but the strides are far apart, longer. They are both a block away, stopped in an alley.

"Turn left, Dr. Rosen," I interject my thoughts for a moment and return to my focused state.

They are talking about … it's in a language that I cannot understand, Italian? A bag opens, the zipper is old, the teeth do not let up as easily as they used to. The woman says something, and the bag is set on the ground. Together they are lifting something out of the bag. Their breathing is very heavy and their heart rates are both accelerated – even past the rate while running.

"It's the next alley, but there's …" I pause as I strain once again, a strange humming noise. "There's a noise that I cannot pinpoint … it almost sounds like a high pitched frequency."

"Maybe it's a transmitter," Dr. Rosen pulls over and parks at the curb. He puts the flashers on, hoping it will deter any cops from coming to the van again. All we need is for Gary to get arrested … again. "Gary, see if you can pick up on it."

"Okay," his words are short and to the point. His gaze drops to the back of the pilot seats in the front of the car. His right hand is moving as fast as his mind can process it. For a minute the car is silent, and the only noise is Harken's breathing, which does not take someone with super powerful hearing to pick up on. "I-I got it! It's … there's a signal, there's two signals –"

"Gary, where are these signals going to?" Dr. Rosen interrupts to Gary's dismay.

"I'm getting there … you-you need to be patient. It's … they're going back and forth. It's a receiver and a sender. It stopped …" Gary's eyebrows furrow. "Oh wait, it's back. It's a high frequency …"

"But what is sending the signal? A cell phone? A radio?"

"It's a radio but …" Gary flicks his wrist and moves his finger as if across a touchscreen. "They aren't speaking … it's a code …"

"What kind of code?" Nina's voice wavers for a moment; her hand brushes her hair behind her ear. It's a habit of hers. I just do it to hear better.

"It's Morse Code … they're saying, 'In place. Stop. Van insight. Stop. Team in van –"

"They're watching us!" Dr. Rosen exclaims, and without consultation, puts the van in drive just as the bomb that they put in place at the end of the alley explodes.

When things like that happen, I shut off my senses. I don't listen, smell, hear, or feel. The only sense that I keep in place is taste. And that is just to remind myself that I am alive. I usually remain in these states for a prolonged time, just in case there is residual noise or blinding light. When I finally turn my senses back on, I find that I am upside down, laying across Hicks.

"Cameron?" I mutter, a wave of nausea passes over me, but I keep my composure. The van is upside down, and there is a lot of noise outside of the van. There are sirens, heavy boots, men screaming, alarms going off. I try to tune it out as I reposition myself and slide off Hicks. It seems as if my movement has sparked others to come back, and Hicks squirms, his eyes still shut. "Cameron, open your eyes, c'mon … be okay."

"Rachel?" his voice is weak.

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I … I feel like I got hit on the head by a sledge hammer," he sits up; we are now sitting on the roof of the car. Nina is conscious, but her eyes are shut tight, her hands over her ears. Somehow she is suspended upside down in her seat belt. It's not long before Harken and Dr. Rosen all begin to stir. The Jaws of Life are wrenching open our doors, and they are carefully removing the front windshield. Everyone is moving except Gary.

"Gary? Gary! C'mon, wake up! Dr. Rosen, he's not moving!"

"Oh my god … Gary, c'mon buddy, open your eyes," Dr. Rosen has released himself from the grasp of the helpful EMT's and is in the back of the van with me, holding Gary's hand, patting his face, hoping to wake him. I pause and listen for his heartbeat, there is one, but it's faint.

"We need to get him to the hospital … fast," I say in the most serious tone I can muster.