Disclaimer: I don't make no money. Thanks for letting me play with your toys, Cameron.

Authors Note/ Summary: Normally, I don't approve of the introduction of new major characters in fic- stick to cannon, that's what I say- but Asha is just so boring. So I'm going to try to give Alec somebody he could actually open up to. Action, adventure, romance, debate on the nature of humanity, that's what I'm aiming for here- who knows I might even get it.

Chapter 1-

The room is cold.

Dirt collects in the empty corners where cement block meets cement block. Set high in one wall are narrow windows that cast wan light onto three figures, one occupying the room's only chair while the other two hover over him like vultures.

Sitting in that heavy chair in the exact middle of the cold room is a young man, broad and hard-muscled. In the light his skin shines palely green and there is a suggestion of scales on his wrists where his hands are cuffed behind his back. His clothes are ragged and dirty, even shredded in places. Under the hood of his sweatshirt his head is smooth. When he looks up, it is possible to see a slit pupil instead of a round one in the golden eye that is not swollen shut. There is a sharp line of blood along the opposite cheekbone.

Sounds come from the vultures as they circle him- demanding, cajoling, insisting. The noises have stopped meaning anything to the man in the chair. The vultures cut his shirt away, exposing bruises and burns. A knife is introduced. The young man watches it with one dull eye.

A question is repeated. Again. And again.

He shakes his head vaguely. Blood flows. His chin snaps back under a sudden blow and his gaze lands on the windows.

Escape.

A woman's face comes to him out of the light. She looks the way she looked the first time he saw her, when she reached down from the sky to lift him up into the world. She wears the same wry wounded smile. Three words slip out of his mouth.

The question is repeated yet again.

With tremendous effort, the young man drags the chair beneath him up and the knife against his skin punches deep, glancing off of ribs to sink into vital organs. He falls back away from the blade, smiling at the woman with her sweet sad eyes.

Escape.

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"So what's up?" Max asked without preliminaries when she entered Logan's apartment. He had asked her to come and talk about some information and she had agreed but she didn't want to be in his place longer than she had to. It was dangerous for the two of them to stand in the same room together and she couldn't let herself forget it.

He raised an eyebrow in his usual cool way and replied, "Nice to see you too."

Max ignored the provocation, "Logan, I got places to be- so could we possibly move this thing along?"

"Fine." He reached over and tapped three keys on his computer- a little harder than necessary. "Listen to this."

It was a recorded cell phone conversation. Max leaned against the wall by Logan's desk as she listened, frowning. One of the voices was vaguely familiar before she recognized it as White's chief henchman. The quality of the copy was not good: the voices broke down into static several times as they listened intently.

"The interrogation was partially successful . . . eventually," The agent reported. A muscle in Logan's jaw worked briefly and he glanced up at the girl. Her face remained impassive- her soldier's mentality firmly in place.

"So?" The second voice was unmistakable. When she heard White speak, Max shifted uncomfortably like someone trying to shake off an unfriendly hand.

"It claimed it got the forged sector pass from a fellow transgenic."

"Did it give you a designation?"

The copy degenerated into static and they couldn't hear the reply. When it became clear again, they heard ( ) say, "It just said 'the good witch' and then there was an- accident."

"An accident?"

"It threw itself onto the apparatus. There wasn't anything the technicians could do. We've sent the body for processing with the others."

"Fine. I want a search begun for this 'good witch'," White's voice managed to sound a little more contemptuous than usual. "We can't let them get organized-". Again the copy broke down. Half a minute later the voices resolved once more.

"-start down by the docks. I want this one alive. If it's been helping others of its kind, it may have information that could be useful to us."

"Yes sir." Came the clipped reply.

The call ended.

Logan turned toward Max. "Sorry about the quality. I was lucky to get that much."

The girl nodded stiffly, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What are you thinking?" Logan tilted his head to the side to study her reply.

"That there's a new player in town."

"A good witch or a bad witch?" He asked with a small smile.

"I don't believe in witches," Max told him flatly, "but I think we need to find this chick before White does."

"I agree. But how are you going to do it? You don't even know what you're looking for."

"Transgenic, presumably female, trafficking in forged documents- it's something to start with anyway. I'll try down by the docks, since that seems to be where Ames," Her short smirk was almost a grimace, "thinks she is."

"I'll keep working on the cell recording- it might be that I can clean it up and maybe get some more clues that could help you find this woman."

Max nodded and turned to go.

"And Max-" Logan added and she met his eyes over her shoulder, "be careful."

This smile was genuine, accompanied by a casual shrug, "I'll bring a stake and some matches- don't worry."

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Actually what she brought, or more accurately dragged down to the docks that night to search was Alec, who was not thrilled to be combing the dark streets of one of Seattle's least pleasant areas.

"We're down here looking for a witch?" He asked, glancing around at the dirty decrepit buildings with dry distaste. There were shouts in the distance from the bars that littered the area. There were unpleasant smells as well, from garbage and fish guts and the cloudy harbor. Alec pulled his jacket a little closer around him. How did he always get himself talked into this stuff, he wondered.

"A good witch- whatever that means." Max corrected as her eyes swept the alleyway, peering into the shadows for danger or possibly evidence. Max had explained about the contents of the recording Logan had obtained but Alec still felt confused on a couple of points. He wondered what she was looking for- gingerbread houses? Black cats?

"Why is that again?" He asked absently, trying to step around an unpleasant pile of something. "You need a pair of ruby slippers?"

"What?"

Stopping in his tracks, Alec gave the girl a look that was somewhere between amazement and disgust. "Don't tell me you've been out all this time and you've never seen 'The Wizard of Oz'."

"Nope." She replied, still moving. Alec caught up with her just as the alley opened out into a street, lined with bars and strip clubs.

"How is it possible you've never seen that movie? I think I saw it the first week I was out."

"Who cares?" Max demanded, "In case you forgot, we're looking for something here." She crossed her arms and scowled out the garish streets in front of them, "So focus- if you were selling forged documents what would you need?"

"Why do you think the witch is selling them?"

"Costs too much money to make that sort of thing pro bono. She'd have to be selling, too."

Alec nodded, agreeing with that logic. They turned a corner onto a narrow street that was a little less crowded and a little shabbier then the previous one. They walked past a tattoo parlor and what looked like the doorway of a brothel. "To start, you'd need a front," He observed, noting the businesses around them, "so no one would get suspicious about all the people coming in and out."

Max paused and Alec also stopped to study a small storefront, "If I you were a witch with a small business, what do you think you'd do?" Max asked. Looking at the small unlighted neon sign in the window in front of them, he smiled. There was a chain security front protecting the business and the lights were off but you could still read the sign which said, 'Fortunes Told!'. Painted on the window in small neat letters, were the words, 'Palm Reading, Tarot Cards, Tea Leaves, and Crystal Ball Predictions! Madame Cora sees all!'

"Madame Cora, huh?" He observed, "Doesn't look like they're open."

"C'mon." Max nodded sharply over her shoulder, "This place has to have a backdoor. She wouldn't be comfortable otherwise."

The fortune teller's did indeed have a backdoor, in an alleyway so narrow and dark it was practically a tunnel. Crouching beside the lock, Max pulled out a small flashlight and Alec turned his back to watch the alley. There were a few small clicking sounds and he heard the knob turn. She nudged his elbow and they slipped inside.

The backroom they entered was very small and simple: one plain table with two chairs and a row of cupboards against one wall. They tossed the cupboards quickly finding nothing out of the ordinary- finding almost nothing at all. There were a few basic tools- a hammer, a couple screw drivers, a staple gun, and a single flashlight in one drawer. The rest were empty.

Opening the door into the next room, however, was like stepping into another world. This room was as full as the previous one was empty. The walls were painted purple and hung with deep red cloth. Some of the cloth had heavy gold fringe that dangled down from the ceiling to trail across surprised shoulders. A set of shelves against one wall was littered with jars containing strange liquids and powders as well as dripping candles and pale milky crystals. Floating in one jar was an entire pickled lizard. Alec leaned in close to see the creature better and wrinkled his lip. "Ugh," Walking over to the small table, he pulled a velvet cover off the crystal ball with a flourish. "This place is one big cliché." He noted, bending over to stare into the ball. He could see Max, stretched out and strange on the other side, "I see . . . a girl- a girl with a problem." He put a hand to his temple and closed his eyes tightly, "This girl, she drags her friends out on wild goose chases in the middle of the night causing great unhappiness. She has a bad attitude and . . . a smart mouth-" When he opened his eyes, Max had her arms crossed and was watching him with obvious annoyance.

"You're gonna have a problem in a second when I shove the ball straight up your-"

"Okay, okay. Gez, Max, lighten up." He looked around, "This place is a joke. There's nothing here that says anyone is selling anything except bullshit out of here."

"I wanna check the front, just to make sure. Wait here."

He shrugged and she slipped into the small waiting room that could be seen from the street. Curious, Alec turned back to the table to study the ball some more. He wondered what kind of tricks 'Madame Cora' used on her customers. Fortune telling- why hadn't he thought of that one? He picked the ball up and toyed with it absently.

"Alec-" Max's annoyed voice right behind him startled him and the ball slipped out of his fingers to roll beneath the table. Tilting her head, Max studied the spot where the ball had disappeared behind the long tablecloth that pooled on the floor. "Smooth." She said dryly.

"That's me," Alec muttered as he lowered himself to his knees, "smooth like-" He flipped the tablecloth up and fell back suddenly as the ball came flying straight into his face. He caught the ball but could not grab the girl who followed it. She managed to make it to the door before Max caught her, slamming her into the wood just as she touched the knob.

"What are you doing here?" Max demanded, her face close to the girl's face where it was pressed up against the door. Behind them, Alec got to his feet slowly, still holding the crystal ball.

"What are you doing here?" Was the cool reply. Alec couldn't make out the girl's face where it rested in a patch of shadow but he could see the three inches of her neck between the edges of her close cut hair and the collar of her jacket.

"Ah, Max-" Alec tried to interrupt.

"Where's the woman who owns this shop?"

"Max-" He tried again.

"Bora Bora. I hear it's beautiful this time of year."

"Max, you should-" Alec's voice was becoming impatient.

"Funny. Does this look like open mic night to you?"

"Max!"

She whirled around to face him finally, one hand still pinning the other girl to the door, "What?" She demanded, exasperated.

Alec snapped on his flashlight and held it up to the girl's neck to illuminate the barcode peeking above the collar of her jacket. He gave Max an eloquent look.

Her cheek still pressed against the wall, the girl observed, "This is one of those situations where a transgenic secret handshake would really be useful."