TITLE: Sepulcher
AUTHOR: Aloof
EMAIL: aloof@kwayera.org
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: "You don't have to be alone anymore."
PAIRING: M/A
SPOILERS: Er, Freak Nation? Sometime after that.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except the words.

When she entered his apartment, it was dark. It didn't present a problem for her cat-enhanced eyes, but it was what it signified that frightened her. The room was eerily silent, and nothing moved to disturb the shadows stretching across the floor. The air carried a thick aura of sepulchral morbidity, and it spoke of anguish.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was here, exactly; what on earth could she do to soothe a mourning soul? She lifted a foot and set it down again, carefully, stepping forward without a sound. The shadows of a passing...something...flitted across the floor like a bird flits from tree to tree, starling her from her reverie of contemplation. She shook her head, the movement rustling her hair across her back. A slight sound echoed from the general vicinity of the floor, an exhalation of bated breath that confirmed her suspicions.

She stepped forward once more, making a little sound this time as to not startle the person sitting on the floor. She stopped a few feet away from him, far enough away to dodge an attack and close enough to eye him carefully.

"Alec?"

Her voice was hesitant, tentative. She couldn't help admitting to herself that she was more than a little afraid of the being sitting so motionlessly on the floor. He had had ten years of training on her, and she knew that every time they mocked and sparred that he was withholding his true power. Greatly.

She waited a few minutes before speaking again, this time her voice a little louder, a little stronger.

"Ale-"

"What do you want, Max?" She was interrupted by a harsh voice emitting from the dark figure, and the shadows shifted slightly as he raised his head to regard her. She didn't say a word, but moved over to his side, sliding down the chair he was leaning his back on to settle herself comfortably next to him. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was glaring at her. She reached down between his loosely crossed legs, swiftly grasping the shot glass resting there, and brought up to her face. She took a long swig, finishing off the drink under Alec's disapproving gaze.

"I was drinking that, you know," he said quietly.

"Too bad," she replied, raising her eyebrows at him. She knew he could see her perfectly, so she didn't waste too much time in verbal rebuttal. He looked away.

They sat silently for a while, but before long she heard a small sniff, followed by a ragged exhale. She was slightly shocked by the sound; he was *crying*. This was odd. The only other time she had seen him cry was at Rachel's bedside, weeping in grief and despair from love lost. Alec wasn't one to weep for petty reasons - this was serious. A hand tentatively grasped hers from where it rested on the floor and squeezed tightly, holding it like a lifeline.

This was the closest he would come to asking for comfort, she realized, and she gave it without a second thought. She shifted and he moved with her, so his head was buried in her shoulder as she hugged him tightly to her. She felt his breath against her collarbone and his hot tears sliding down her skin, and she wept too, inside. Her hand came up to caress his hair, ruffling it softly as one would stroke a wailing puppy. They stayed like this for a long time.

Max realized that this was probably the first time in a long while, if ever, that he had ever asked anyone for comfort, and he had asked her, of all people. That in itself amazed her; why on earth would he want someone who kept calling him an ass and a screw up? He rarely showed any emotion but arrogance and smart assy-ness on his face, and now he was shuddering in her arms, weeping. The only sound he made, however, was soft, shuddering exhales and random mews, like a kitten.

Most people say that cats purr because they're happy or content, but they also purr to comfort themselves or others when they're distressed. Manticore had, for some perverse reason, equipped all its X5 series that had cat DNA with the ability to shape their throats so that they could purr; why they did it, no one knows. And so this was what Max did now; a soft, calming purr that echoed in Alec's fevered ears and sent him into a deep, restless sleep to the soft melody and the beating of her heart. She kept on purring through her vigil that night; keeping away the demons that haunted his eyes when he was awake. She did not sleep that night.

Many hours later, a change in Alec's breathing patterns alerted her to his current state of awareness, and she looked down to see hazel eyes staring straight back at her. They asked a silent question; why? It had many meanings that Max could think up - why did you come? why did you stay? why did you comfort me? why must the world forsake me?

She brought her forehead to lean against his as she whispered, "You don't have to hide from me, Alec." She kissed his forehead gently as he squeezed his eyes shut in response, shaking his head minutely in disbelief.

"You aren't a screw up, Alec. You never have been. I needed someone to act as a punching bag and you were always there for me, taking it." She paused, struggling to translate her thoughts into speech. Finally she just settled for a whispered "You don't have to be alone anymore."

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, murmuring soft affirmations in her ear. She bent down and softly touched her lips to his forehead again, whispering lightly in return. It would have appeared a tranquil scene had one not understood its meanings and, had one not known that Alec's best friend Biggs had been brutally slaughtered by the bloodthirsty crowd of anti-transgenics gathered at the gates to Terminal City. Alec was not one to normally weep for a fallen comrade, but this was different. Biggs wasn't meant to die. Alec was.

Alec had been the diversion. Alec had been the key. And Alec had been the one sighted by the snipers' rifle. He wasn't even sure exactly what had happened: one minute Alec was playing the typical jeering and dodge-bullet transgenic that the general public loved to hate, and Biggs had been the rescue mission. The next minute Alec was lying on the ground with a bullet in his leg and Biggs was 'laying the smackdown' on a bristling sector cop. They last words that Alec ever heard uttered from Biggs' mouth were, "Run, godammit, RUN!" And so he did, as fast as his injured leg could carry him back to the safe confines of Terminal City, where he watched the sector cop and his cronies throw the beaten Biggs to the merciless crowd, where he was literally torn to pieces.

The sheer brutality of the act had silenced the riots' violent protesting for a day or too; long enough for a few denizens of the City to sneak out and gather the pieces of their fallen comrades' body for burial. Alec had disappeared that night from the grieving headquarters, and a brooding sense of melancholy followed in his wake. Max had followed him, of course, to his trashy apartment; found him, protected him against the dragons of death that haunted his dreams.

"You don't have to be alone."

She leaned down and kissed him softy on the lips, a kiss filled with hope and comfort and love.

FIN

Author's Note: Feedback appreciated. My first DA fanfiction; how did I do?