The Mission

by S-Jay494

The cure for the virus keeping Max and Logan apart may still be out there. Alec is sent on a mission to recover it, but will his mission change everything in ways no one ever anticipated? [Alec & Max: Romance/Angst/Action]

7. Chapter 7

Title: THE MISSION (Chapter 7)

Synopsis: The cure for the virus keeping Max and Logan apart may still be out there. Alec is sent on a mission to recover it, but will his mission change everything in ways no one ever anticipated? [Alec & Max: Romance/Angst/Action]

Notes: Thanks for the country check-ins (both from home and abroad)! I appreciate the reviews and your suggestions so much I couldn't leave you hanging for a whole weekend without a chapter (plus I'm dying with writer's block on page 320 of my book). Anyway, I saw this chapter was half done so I worked on it today. I really will be off for about two weeks now, but chapter 8 will be worth the wait (I hope). Enjoy this one!

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# # # #

Joshua watched Max pace in the alley between the armory and the command center. With so precious little to do in the way of security or diplomacy, she was losing her mind. Leaving Terminal City was not forbidden or guaranteed to be deadly (at the moment), but doing so was not advisable. The cooling tensions between the Manticore refugees and people and officials of Seattle (all usually armed) and the Federal Troops (who were only slightly better armed) made for a more relaxed atmosphere, but that didn't mean they were rolling out the welcome mat or buying the first round at Crash.

What it did mean was that Max had very little to do. She spoke twice daily to her preferred liaison with Seattle's officials (Detective Clemente) to give an update on the plans for the two factions. Both discussions basically offered vague statements about neither side not actually planning anything but keeping open their options to move and take action if it was warranted. It gave both sufficient deniability should the détente fail. As she was not a part of the day-to-day functions of TC, she had nothing to do until a crisis arose. Everyone else dealt with keeping TC functioning, stocked and ready to react if needed. That seemed to keep everyone busy. Except Max.

Her lack of tasks was maddening to her. It left her with nothing to do but wait and think. At that moment, her thinking had her pacing. The pacing made Joshua nervous. He sat on a crate in the alley, watching her, as he pulled a raw and slightly lint covered hotdog out of the pocket of his army coat.

"Like hotdogs," he said for lack of another topic and in an effort to get his friend to do something other than pace.

"Hotdog?" Max asked, looking at him bewildered. "How can you think of hotdogs right now?"

Joshua recoiled at her hot tone and shrugged as he replied.

"Hungry?" he offered and nibbled on the end of it. "Share?"

"No," she sighed then approached him with a sorrowful look. She patted him consolingly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"Joshua know," he replied forgivingly. "Little fellah worried."

"That obvious?" she asked.

Joshua nodded. She looked tired and anxious. She had been pacing nonstop in the alley for an hour without speaking. The sun had long ago set and a steady, chilly sleet was falling as the early winter temperatures dropped into the freezing range.

"Worry never fixes things," Joshua offered sagely. "Only makes worse."

"I don't know how it could get worse," Max said then paused. "Actually, I do. What if Dr. Brezhenski's cure works at first and then stops working but we don't know it until it's too late."

"Logan gets sick after you get busy," Joshua replied. "Not a good plan."

"Very bad plan," Max agreed. "I'm not being a pessimist. I'm being a realist. Something always happens whenever I think Logan and I are finally going to get our time. It's as if…"

"It's not meant to be," Joshua said.

Max looked at him startled. The definite nod of his head under the sleet-soaked mane of hair was unexpected. The frankness of his tone was disheartening.

"You don't think Logan and I are meant to be?" she asked.

"Max thinks," Joshua shook his head and pointed back at her. "Said: Every time something goes bad."

Max sighed. She was considering the possibility. Had more than once in the previous year. She wasn't a big believer in fate, but there were times when life simply lined up all the resistance it could muster and the answer did seem obvious. It's not that she was one for rolling over and giving up when things got hard, but after a while, failure after failure did seem like a sign of sorts.

"Max love Logan?" Joshua asked.

"I guess," she sighed dejectedly.

"No guess," he shook his head. "Know or…. no."

She thought about it. That worried her. She never really needed to think about it before; she had feelings for Logan. She was certain at one point it was love. It started as just a tickle of interest, a crush, and then it became something more. She had spent her whole life running and keeping her distance from others, but with Logan there was some safety and that was fertile ground for something more to grow, and Max had grown.

Logan was kind and sweet and handsome and smart. He was good for her. If it wasn't for the virus… They had wasted an entire year dancing around each other when there was no biological assassin coursing through her veins. For some reason, they never found the right moment. Then, once they had, she was dragged back to Manticore and held captive. She thought hated everything about Manticore until that moment; then she met Joshua.

She looked up at her transhuman friend and saw the compassion in his eyes. He had saved her and in the process helped her free all the others captive in that prison, like she had been. She still hated all that Manticore stood for, but there was no longer a reviling of all things associated with it. There were other transgenics out in the world now, and she saw them for who and what they were: magnificent creations with much to offer, more than the world even knew. That realization made her consider herself in a different light. She was no longer just an individual. She was part of something larger. That made everything seem different, especially herself.

That knowledge was what prompted Max to take the reins when White manipulated the media and police into revealing the existence of the genetically enhanced to the world. Her people needed a leader, someone who understood them but also understood the world of ordinary humans. She had lived among them for more than a decade, posed as one of them, and learned much of what it might to be one of them. What she was learning now was changing everything about her yet again: How to be a transgenic in a world who knew her secret.

Logan was there for her. He was supportive, but she wasn't sure he fully understood. He grasped the concept of their fragile peace with authority. He understood the idea that they were considered different and feared by many. He just didn't know how that felt. Only someone who had lived as she did, who knew people because of living among them while keeping that secret, could know. Not all those at TC even had that knowledge; many had spent their first year away from Manticore in hiding. She knew of only one X5 who had come into the light and walked among them, following (most) of their rules and putting on the mask of someone who was just like them successfully. Alec understood; she knew that. She could see it on his face, the frustration, the envy, the weariness of playing both roles. Alec knew what it was like to hide who and what he was for safety, sanity and survival; he also knew there were precious few on the planet who could relate to what it was like to be him.

Like her, Alec kept most of that bottled up. He put on the face of Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky to mask the pain and the bad memories. He made crass and cold remarks about the futility of their lives, the pointlessness of trying to blend into a world that never wanted them, the likelihood of imminent failure in caring about anything. No one else seemed bothered by his negativity and this surprised Max until she realized they did not know what she was talking about; Alec, she realize, only told her those things.

Where Logan kept up a brave face and shared with Max details about many of the Eyes Only projects, he did not lay bare his feelings to her. He held in anger and disappointment. He was in his constant "fix this thing" mode. Damage control and playing the savior to right a wrong were his passions. They were great and inspiring, but other than proving he was someone with a good heart, they did not reveal to her his feelings or his trust in the intimate connection she thought they were forging. She, too, hesitated in laying bare her soul to him. They had build an invisible wall between them long before the virus entered the picture. In reflecting on this, Max wasn't sure if they were more interested in protecting the other or themselves. It made their allegedly star-crossed love affair seem stale and shallow.

"I do… love him," she said shaking her head. "The feelings are just… complicated. I can't explain it. It has to do with…"

"Alec," Joshua offered.

"What?" Max asked startled. She shook her head vigorously. "No."

"Yes," Joshua insisted. "Alec needs you."

"He does?" Max looked at him with wide eyes as her chin dropped and her mouth hung open for a moment.

Alec and Joshua had an odd friendship. Alec had twice attacked Joshua—once with the intention of killing him to save his own life; once simply after being startled as he dealt with the re-emergence of painful memories of heartbreak and punishment from his past. Joshua never held it against him. He liked Alec and found him an entertaining companion. Together they could find more trouble than Max cared to put right on any day (most of it at Alec's instigation), but there was a bond there she could not deny. They trusted each other and while Alec often acted like Joshua was subservient to him, she knew Alec cared for the transhumant and would never do anything to hurt him. Joshua cared similarly for Alec and had fallen into a terrible state of sadness in the fall when they thought he drown on his way to Russia. She did not know how much time the two were spending together since Alec's return, but she now wondered if Alec had confided something to the transhumant, or if Joshua's keen perception about people simply saw something no one else had yet noticed.

"Why do you say that?" Max asked. "What did Alec tell you?"

Joshua stood up from his seat, shaking his head. He spun her around to face the command post door some 50 yards down the alley. Alec stood there waving his hand calling them inside.

"Alec needs Max—now," he said pointing to the transgenic standing in the door way signaling to them.

# # # #

Max arrived in her office to find a delivery in the shape of a tube. Alec sat on her desk watching Mole stare at the package with a hungry interest. The lizard man was angry but accepting of the reason he was not allowed to participate in-person at the BioCorp conference. To cool his temper, Max agreed he should be part of the planning for their security duties there.

"I'd hurry up, Maxie," Alec said as she entered the room. "Those blueprints of the hotel whispering sweet nothings to Mole. He's going to jump that package and…"

"How has no one ever shot and killed you?" Mole growled.

"Probably has something to do with me being fast and adorable," Alec nodded with confidence.

"Ordinaries are bad all around," Mole sneered. "Bad shots, bad judges of character…."

"Not bad cooks," Alec shrugged. "I was watching this show earlier, the guy was roasting an Iguana and…"

Mole raised the pistol he always carried and leveled it at Alec while clamping down hard on his cigar. He glared at the transgenic for a long moment then stuffed the gun into the shoulder holster he was now sporting. Alec had begun joking he would get Mole a duster so he could parade around the compound like an old west marshal from 200 years earlier. Mole scoffed but more than a few swore they saw him smile at the suggestion.

"Do you two need a room or to take this into the alley to settle it?" Max asked, watching the two stare them at each other. Mole was glaring with pent up anger; Alec was grinning mildly and tauntingly.

"He's not my type, and I'd hate to hurt one of my elders," Alec said.

Mole snorted derisively and grumbled what might have been the word "pussy." Max sighed explosively and tore open the shipping tube. She stripped out blueprints, topography maps and satellite photos of the Crystal Mountain Resort: the location of the conference.

"Mole, take the topo maps," Max said handing him the documents. "Take the satellite shots, too. Give me your break down. I'll start on the hotel itself. Then we'll switch and compare."

"You got it," he said, snatching up the pages and leaving the room.

Max rolled the plans out onto the table and began studying them. Alec joined her after a moment, standing very close to her side. She did not notice it at first, but as their session continued, she was unable to move without brushing her arm against his. She looked across at him a few times, expecting to see some salacious leer on his face. Instead, she found he was not paying any attention to her at all. His eyes were focused on the schematics as he committed them to memory and made notes about possible entry and exit points, areas of vulnerability and questions they needed answers as they formulated their strategy.

Max moved to the other side of the table, to look at the drawings from a different angle. It was cooler over there without the added body heat of her companion, yet the room still felt confined with the two of them working intensely. Alec could only keep his eyes and brain working so long before his mouth felt neglected. Max was able to do her own study despite his running commentary, but there was something about all of her senses being accosted by Alec (the warmth of his body, the occasional brushing of his hand against hers, the scent of him and the sound of his voice) that made it hard to concentrate.

She was glad when, after Mole returned with his notes and a gruff promise to look at the other half of the documents the next morning after he'd had some sleep, Alec decided to take a break as well. He left her alone in the room. His departure changed the atmosphere measurable. It was quieter, cooler and… lonely.

An hour later, Max's eyes burned in the sparse light of the office. The exact dimensions, angles and all other details from the maps, blueprints and photos were imprinted on her memory, but there was still much more to do. Her lids felt heavy and her stomach was complaining through a low but persistent growl. She scoffed. When Alec departed, he claimed he was getting coffee. Max shook her head and decided he had problem simply gone to bed. She was reluctant to admit it even to herself, but she had appreciated his assistance and was missing his company. The constant chatter did get a bit taxing on her nerves at times, but it did beat the monotonous silence caused by his absence. She also found his stories entertaining and enlightening.

Since beginning their plans for the conference, she had learned a great deal about Alec. His life seemed to begin at 16 when Manticore first sent him into the field—as an observer only and with a full complement of handlers. His recitations of those days and what it was like to see the outside world for the first time were fascinating. Learning that people wore all manner of clothing in every array of the rainbow nearly sent him into ischemic shock. She knew the feeling. She had the same thing happen to her when she first ran away from Manticore. However, unlike her own fear-filled memories, hearing Alec tell the story was entertaining, like watching a parody skit. And, for as humorous as the story was, it wasn't nearly as entertaining as watching him tell it. Max decided, despite his well-polished loner persona, Alec was truly an extrovert. When his guard was down, he was unable to simply tell a story. He had to physically depict it—as if walking through it again in his memory and acting it out.

Max, while concentrating on possible weaknesses in the security perimeter at the hotel, found herself straying from the maps to watch him. This was a different Alec than she usually dealt with in this office. He was relaxed and open. There was no scheme afoot (at least that she could sense, and after all this time, her 'Alec is plotting' radar was finely tuned); there was no overt play for attention. Although he was keeping a running dialogue of his history, it was not one laid out to impress her. He was self-deprecating in certain moments—as if somehow his days as X5-494 were not truly a part of his history, and he was telling her about the foibles of another. He had also ceased his typical barely veiled sexual innuendos. She was taken aback by that when she noticed it, but what startled her more was how this other side of Alec, this side that was not hormonally focused, was even more attractive.

He was handsome. There was no denying that. For the most part, Manticore did not make X-5 field operatives (those to be used covertly as assassins in particular) ugly. But there was more to him than good cheekbones, a straight nose and jewel-toned eyes. As he spoke and became animated with his stories, there was a boyish charm she found appealing that compounded the impact of his good looks and wonderfully toned body.

Max caught herself sighing as she stared into space in the silent room as she recalled the last of his stories before he departed. She shook her head and reminded herself there was work to be done. Having Alec appear in her sleeping dreams was one thing; allowing him to take over daydreams was going too far. She scolded herself and turned her attention back to the blueprints when the door swung up and the aroma of fried rice and egg rolls filled the air.

"Do you know what I love most about Australia?" Alec said without preamble as he entered carrying a bag from a Chinese takeout place Max recognized from her days as a Jam Pony messenger.

"What? " Max asked. "You've been to Australia?"

"Yeah," he nodded then looked at the doubt in her eyes. "Not just now. I mean, I'm fast, but not that fast."

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Oh, I ran out to Section 8 to get this," he answered and placed the bag on the table. "See, as I was saying, I was in Australia once heading to… Well, that's not important. I got like 24 hours there and…"

"In Australia?" she repeated.

"Yes," he continued. "Actually, now that I think about it, Germany and Sweden have the same thing going for them. See, the women there are…"

"Enough," Max cut him off.

Alec looked back at her in surprise and nodded.

"That's exactly what I was going to say," he snapped his fingers in agreement as he pointed at her. "They are absolutely enough. They're enough fun, with enough flexibility in their…"

"Stop!" she cut him off.

"Schedules," he finished his sentence and looked back at her with accusing eyes. "I worked with a few of them—that's all. I was going to say, you could learn from their examples. Dedicated, but not obsessed. The right balance of professional and fun."

"Oh," Max replied and shook her head. "Well, that's not important right now. We're working on this."

"Actually, we're eating," Alec said, drawing out chopsticks and a carton from the bag. "Or I am. Have some if you like, but I don't do strategy well on an empty stomach unless I'm living in a cave and my life depends on it. Ooo, extra duck sauce."

Max watched him tear into the food with elated abandon. He murmured his approval of the feast as he kicked his feet onto the table in a relaxed pose. She was torn. They needed to work, but the food smelled intoxicating. They did not have everything figured out yet, but she wasn't getting anything productive done. As if sensing her crumbling resolve, Alec stood and put down his food. He walked behind her chair and dragged it, with her in it, across to the table where he sat. He crammed a carton and chopsticks in her hand.

"Don't make me spoon feed you," he said as he took his seat and began eating again. "Which wouldn't be possible because they didn't give us spoons."

"Alec," she sighed.

"Eat, Max," he encouraged. "Your stomach growls so loud, it makes me think Mole is in the room bitching."

She relented and opened her carton and became aware of how ravenous she was. The food was still warm—something that she didn't get much as her trips to the mess hall were usually at odd hours. Not that there was a lot of warm or well cooked food there. They lived off canned food and their meals were more like military rations. Takeout was not unheard of in TC. The seedier parts of Seattle didn't snub their noses as much at strangers so transgenics outside the wire could occasionally grab something and would bring it back to the envy of those who did not get to leave the perimeter that day. Alec was one of those who was known to have his own stash of food from the outside. Pizza boxes were seen in the trash (and later fed to Bullet's goats) after some of his wanderings away from their toxic, gated community. Sharing was not something he did often or openly as far as Max knew.

"Thanks," she said through a mouth full of rice. "You didn't need to do this."

"Eat?" he scoffed. "Yeah, I did. I was starving."

"No, I mean, for me," she replied.

"I'm not quite the selfish bastard you think I am, Max," he said easily.

He looked at her with a lingering gaze. She had seen that look from him often in the last few days. She had expected cold and scornful glances after making him spend the night in restraints. She was satisfied that his previously odd behavior was just an attitude adjustment he was making as he came to terms with their second class status and return to the role of tools and protectors. Max reminded herself that she had spent more years away from Manticore and knew sometimes you needed to play the game to get what you wanted on the outside. Alec was very good at the hustle, but his freedom was zealously protected by him as it was still new; anything infringing on it was offensive to him.

"I know you're not completely selfish," she said. "You're just not a saint."

"You mean, I'm not Logan?" he asked. His tone was casual and light, but there was an inflection on the name that she did not miss.

"Logan's not a saint either," Max said with complete honestly.

"What do you see in him?" Alec asked boldly.

His eyes trained on her in a calculating and probing way. She stared back, unsure how or whether to answer. She also wasn't sure she could answer. She knew what she saw in him in the beginning. He hadn't really changed since then, but she had. She just wasn't sure any longer how much of what attracted her then still intrigued her to the same level.

"He's… smart," she said.

"Genuis IQ?" Alec asked. "Knows multiple languages, can learn any skill or process in a matter of days?"

"No," she said. "He's not…"

"Me," Alec offered quietly as he chewed his rice slowly.

"I don't know what his IQ is," Max continued. "He's just… smart. He's got a good heart; he cares about people and causes. He's loyal to his friends, and he cares about… the things he cares about."

"Really?" Alec questioned. "You do realized that you've just described a pet dog?"

"What?" she guffawed. "No."

"Sure," he nodded. "Kind and clever, loyal and faithful—you didn't say faithful by the way, I'm just guessing he doesn't hump the neighbor's leg. I'll be he can follow commands and likes to share his toys."

Max scoffed and chuckled, spitting some of her fried rice back into the carton in the process. Alec leaned over and patted her on the back. His hand lingered there for a moment. Even through her shirt, she felt a charge from his touch. She inhaled deeply but in a controlled fashion. She caught his eye and nodded off the concern she saw. He shrugged and removed his hand, taking his seat again. She felt a pang of regret as he did so and that confused her. She knew she was tired and weary from hours of looking over the same documents countless times. She wasn't sure how to take his actions or his comments. Despite her fatigue and worry, she wasn't punchy enough to take offense to Alec's dog analogy or his invasion of her personal space. She looked back at his challenging gaze and smiled.

"You're just jealous," she replied.

"Yes," Alec admitted, reaching into her carton with his chopsticks and grabbing some for himself. "I am."

Max's expression went blank. She stared back at him, chewing slowly, watching her carefully. She blinked several times and waited for his words to make sense. They didn't. Alec admitting jealousy? That was like admitting inferiority or failure. It just didn't happen. Not from Alec.

He watched her struggle with her thoughts, but made no move to intercede. He stared at her for several long minutes, the kind of blazing stare that raised the temperature of the room several degrees. Max stared back, unable to speak. She was shocked and pleased, excited and terrified, all at the same time.

"I'm tired," she said suddenly, standing up. "I'm…. I'm going to bed."

She turned swiftly and left him alone in the room.

# # # #

Cactus leaned on a desk in the main command center. She looked at her watch for the fifth time in 10 minutes. Max was in her office, reportedly taking one of her regular calls with the Seattle Police Department's liaison between the TC population and the outside world. Catcus had a message for her. She wanted to deliver it quickly in case Alec arrived.

Logan was coming to TC.

He had arrived to escort Max to their last appointment with Dr. Brezhenski. What happened this afternoon was either going to kill him or proved he was cured. Joshua, eager for a happy ending, was guiding Logan through one of the abandoned subway tunnels. Cactus had run ahead to help speed this along. She was happy for Max and Logan, though she did not know him much. It seemed good and proper that they would finally have an answer to a lingering and heartbreaking question. Cactus also felt sorry for Alec. In the most basic way, the success or failure of Brezhenski's research project had nothing to do with him, but she knew the results were going to impact him all the same.

Inside the office, Max was no longer speaking to Detective Clemente. Clemente's call had been like it always was, brief and uninformative. She was used to that. No news was good news.

Instead, she was on the phone to deal with possible bad personal news.

"This is it," Max said, her voice heavy with worry. "One touch and it could be over."

"Exactly," Original Cindy said. "This virus bitch gonna be takin' a dirt nap, and you and Logan can be getting' all down and dirty by sunset."

"Or, if Brezhenski is wrong, Logan's the one who will be taking a nap, forever," Max worried. "There's no antidote. This is all or nothing. I'm not sure it's worth the risk."

"Not your call," OC replied. "Now, you knew it could come to this. What's the real hitch in your giddy-up? You not want it to work? I'm getting a vibe here like you is just as afraid it might work."

Max sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She was weary from all of Brezhenski's treatments, her nearly around the clock work on the plans for security at the conference and her worry about this day. When she did try to sleep, her mind would race preventing sleep. In those rare moments when sleep did come, her dreams were vexing. Either they were frantic and tragic with Logan dying after a simple touch from her hand, or they were equally frenzied with Alec appearing in them with all thoughts of Logan disappearing.

"I don't know what I think anymore," Max confessed. "Remember when life used to be simple with me just being repressed and running from one secret government agency?"

"Glory days done passed you by," OC laughed. "You okay? I mean it. You all sixes and sevens about Logan getting better?"

"I don't know," Max said. "I really don't know what to think about… about a lot of things."

"That's because you thinkin' too much, Boo," OC said. "I know what you need: a night out. You is going with me to a Warp."

"A what?" Max asked.

"Warp," OC said. "It's a time warp night. There's this traveling club, like an old time rave, and they call it Warp. They play like that retro music, kickin' it with the stuff that was hip back the decade before the Pulse in '09—that and ancient stuff like 1990s tunes. It is a cloud burst, sugar. That's your cure. You and me, like old times. We gotta go and dance between the rain drops, you know what I'm sayin'? Sister, you gotta let yo hair down or it gonna fall out. You comin' with and that is that."

"A club?" Max said and nodded. "It's not on the radar? I don't exactly have free roam on the city any time of the day."

"No, it's cool," OC said. "No one knows where the party is gonna be until that night—and I hear the dealio is the cops get a cut of the cover to look the other way; place never gets a call from the po-po. Boo, I got someone who can hook me up with a locale. You in? Next Thursday good?"

"Okay," Max nodded. "A girl's night? I could do that. Especially after this… project thing I'm working on right now. Once it's done, I'll need to decompress."

"Then I will escort you to the decompression chamber," OC proclaimed.

"Oh, wait," Max sighed. "Next Thursday? Can't. Logan's leaving on Friday. We have plans… sort of."

"Sort of?" OC asked. "As in, if he ain't dead you're doing something, like each other?"

"Something like that," Max said with a sigh. "Maybe another time."

"No, no, no," OC said. "Logan is gonna be fine. You just wait and see. He's leaving next Friday for some secret little journey, fine. That's Friday. Different day from Thursday. Look, bring yo man along. This is a fun night. You and he can get your groove on before you go to his place to... get yo other groove on."

"We'll see," Max nodded. "I got something I have to do early in the week. If that goes well, I'll be up for a night out."

Outside the office, Cactus looked up to see Joshua pointing toward the office, directly Logan where he should wait. Both were smiling, one more deliriously than the other. Logan's stress was obvious and expected. What Cactus did not expect was to see Alec entering the command center with a bored expression and on a course for Max's office. Cactus looked at both men as they spied each other. Shaking her head and deciding there was no point in remaining, she ducked her head and abandoned her place, leaving Logan and Alec alone to wait for Max.

They both approached the area outside her door and nodded to each other. Alec knew why Logan was there—the same reason he himself was there: to see Max. There was nothing Alec needed in the control room. He wasn't on any duty. No one had called him. During his free time lately, he just wandered to the office to see what she was doing. Seeing Logan there waiting, he felt a cold knot in his stomach and a fire spark there as well.

Logan nodded in a greeting to him. The minutes ticked by in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Logan could stand it no longer.

"So, uh, I know I said thank you previously, but I feel like I should say it again," Logan began. "You know, today is the day that…"

"Yeah," Alec nodded. "I know."

"Alec, if you hadn't agreed to go to find Brezhenski and then actually found her and brought her back…," Logan continued.

Alec held up his hands to stop the discussion.

"I hate socially awkward moments," Alec said. "You needed a dirty deed in order to… do one, I guess, so I took care of things. End of story."

"Come on, I'm trying to make some amends here," Logan continued. "I don't always give you enough, or I guess any, credit when you do the right thing. You've helped out on occasion and that's…"

"Look, you paid me," Alec said tersely. "It's fine."

"I know, but you didn't have to do this," Logan replied. "I know that you and I don't really… We didn't get off to the best start, and I know we don't exactly see the world the same way."

"No, I have much better eyesight," Alec replied as he nodded at Logan's glasses.

"You know what I mean," Logan continued. "Look, man, I'm trying to say that, despite taking the money I gave you, I know this was a selfless thing you did. I appreciate it."

"I'm sure you do," Alec smirked while trying to keep the sour tone out of his voice.

He looked at Logan and felt sorry for him, but only to a certain point. Logan wasn't a bad guy; he was an occasionally sanctimonious , mildly pompous, closet know-it-all… sometimes. Given different circumstances, Alec still doubted if they could be considered friends. They were situational colleagues. Yes, Alec could admit (at least to himself… and now Max) that he did harbor some jealousy toward Logan. Logan could hide his secret identity of Eyes Only, and if it was suddenly revealed, he would surely have enemies gunning for him. However, he would have a lot more people willing to shield him.

Alec didn't have that luxury. Once someone learned he sported a barcode, it was open season with little hope of cooler heads prevailing or anyone coming to the rescue. Logan was feared by the crooks of the world; Alec was even more feared and reviled by them plus everyone else. Logan got to play the crusader for justice and could take some pride in the fact that what he did and (if his other identity was revealed) could take a bow; someone would name a day in his honor or erect a statue or name street after him.

Alec had to remain a secret, and if his secret was revealed, he suspect the majority of the population would rather erect a gallows than a statue. The only thing they were likely to name after him was a disease, as his "species" was the only moniker the public understood for him.

Not that he was looking for public exposure or that a lot of what he had done in the past would receive rave reviews. Still, at his core, Alec did not think of himself the way so many others did. He was not actually amoral. He was not a sociopath. He was a being created for a specific purpose: to remove threats (through whatever means necessary) using stealth and force.

The most valuable thing he was given, in his mind, was something not from Manticore. For all the genetic gifts he was given by his creators, he was not granted the gift of a name. He was not permitted to be an individual, a man with thoughts of his own or any emotion. He was to be a cold and obedient tool. The problem was, they messed up his cocktail (as they did with most X5's). His specific code contained rebellious base pairs; he could disobey; he could think for himself; he had his own personal desires. He also had the skill and the drive to get those things, if he chose to do so.

Choice, Alec thought as he looked at Logan keeping his face impassive as his thoughts raced. It all comes down to the question of free will.

He was a slave to certain aspects of his genes. There was something a little wild, a little untamable in him. He knew that. He could feel it. Animals did not get personal or randomly angry. They did not lash out due to a bad mood. They reacted on feelings, physical sensations. If they were tired or hungry or physically hurt, they went into protection mode. If they were scared (and only the estimation that their life was on the line could make that happen), they would lash out with a fury so extreme only nature could create it. Those were aspects of him that he could not conquer completely. He had learned to gain a great deal of control over them. He could maintain and even reduce his heart rate when needed. He could hold his breath underwater for a full five minutes. He could withstand temperatures that would put an ordinary human in hypothermic shock or die of dehydration. These were a product of his Manticore training.

But there was more to him than his animal bits. He was granted the gift of higher reasoning. His creators allowed him a mind and helped develop it—more than they knew—with all they taught him.

They taught him strategy, how to be calculating and how to get and press his advantage. They taught him to fight and to win, at all costs. That was not all they taught him. What they accidentally taught him was desire and how to satiate it. He never truly wanted to please his creators; he wanted to be the best because whoever was the best got the top assignments and the most freedom. From there, he found there was an entire world that Manticore never addressed. People and pastimes and pleasures they never mentioned in any training or briefing. Alec learned, all on his own, that his skills could be put to successful use at getting those things.

There were things he would choose to have, things he desired. He understood that just because he wanted something did not make it his, but he believed there was no object that existed which he could not, with sufficient time and planning, steal or win for himself. People, however, were another matter. Alec knew he possessed the power to kill any living thing; death was easy in this world. It was all the other stuff that was hard because people had exactly what he had: free will; the ability to choose.

Alec had made his choice; now, his desire depended on the choice of someone else. He knew he was playing catch up and was seriously disadvantaged in this quest. He broke it down in mission and target terms the way Manticore taught him. His choice: Max. His opponent: Logan.

Logan had all the advantages with Max. He was already her star-crossed lover. He was the forbidden fruit, which made him all the more desirable to her. He also had her sympathy. Her touch was poison. She nearly killed him twice and the guilt drew her closer to him emotionally. He was the white knight. Eyes Only fought for justice and was always on the side of the righteous. He stood against everything that Manticore stood for, and for someone who had serious unresolved mommy/daddy issues with the freak factory like Max did, that was addictive. Alec had none of those on his side.

In Max's eyes, he was a product of Manticore. His motives were always suspect, and he was, personally, a screw up who needed her to get him out of trouble more often than not. He was a ruthless killer and barely one step ahead of those that trained them at Manticore. Plus, he was one of the reasons why she was separated from Logan. Alec didn't participate in giving her the virus; that was all on Director Elizabeth Renfro. However, Alec was part of the plot to give it to Logan in the first place. Not that it would earn him any affection from her, but what Max didn't understand was that he never had to tell her about the virus at all.

His original orders were to track her to Logan's apartment and take custody of her after he died from the exposure. Alec screwed up that day and the burning of Manticore was all that saved him from a painful stint on the loathed fifth floor of the place. Alec was tired of his assignment, bored with watching and attempting to mingle with the uptight '09 escapee. He had wanted it over so cutting corners was fine in his book. Besides, he didn't think much Renfro; that bitch had him locked up in Psy-Ops twice and put him through re-indoctrination training once. He didn't see any harm in letting Max know what Manticore had done and that there was a cure. All he needed was to bring her back so he could be given a new assignment. If she raced there on her own, he planned to simply signal security and his work would be done without having to throw down with the feisty female and risk getting his ass kicked. In the end, he didn't turn her in; didn't even try to warn Manticore she was coming.

None of that would matter to Max. Those details wouldn't put Alec in a more positive light for her, and he knew he needed more than a list of excuses for why he wasn't as horrible as his history made him seem. For, despite all that, he suspected the one thing that counted against him most was having the ill fortune of being these second of his kind. Alec had the misfortune of looking exactly like his nut job serial killer twin, Ben. It only made matters worse that Max thought of Ben as a brother and that she was forced to kill him. Looking at Alec was a reminder of one of the darkest memories she had, taking the life of someone special to her. That made Alec, in Max's eyes, always the bad guy.

Or so it was until the following spring when she told Alec about Ben. Something changed that night. For the first time, she was willing to acknowledge that Alec was not Ben and never even knew the guy. In realizing that, she finally pardoned him for something that was never his fault. He realized a lot that evening as well.

Max mattered to him; her happiness was something that he did care about. She had needed his help that night following Logan's exposure to the virus. Alec was even concerned about Logan's welfare. He had felt actual relief that the cyber journalist would survive because Joshua was able to give him the transfusion.

Things changed for Alec that evening. He felt a connection to Max, something real. He was a soldier and he had fought alongside her previously, but that was the turning point. After that, he stood with her when others ran. Even before that, he felt a certain esprit de corps toward Max; he came back to help after the Manticore fire even though he had every reason to flee. Springing her from White's cage could have gotten him captured or killed. Logan wouldn't understand why he did that, but Max did. She might gripe about Alec's lack of discipline and his occasionally less than orthodox escapades, but where it mattered, she understood Alec because they were not all that different.

He understood her, not for who she wanted to be and the normal image she hoped to someday have, but for who she truly was. More importantly, he accepted her for who she was here and now. That was the biggest difference between he and Logan. Logan wanted to protect her, fix her and help her crawl out from the Manticore shadow. Alec would have her back but knew she didn't need protection, she only wanted shelter some of the time, and he didn't want to fix her. He didn't see anything wrong with her. He was willing to do whatever it took to give that to her what she wanted, a chance to be who she was without hiding and without fearing it.

All that stood in his way were her feelings for Logan. The man himself was not the issue. It was Max's heart and mind that were the obstacle. He knew how to do it, as well. Love was new to Alec, but war was not. The one thing each had in common: there were no rules; every action was considered fair as long as you were victorious in the end.

Alec looked at Logan and no longer felt sorry for him. They were equals in this fight; that Logan didn't appear to know there was a battle on the horizon wasn't Alec's problem. He grinned at him.

"Let's call us even," Alec said with a nod.

"Okay, but I'll also call it suspicious," Logan said cautiously. "What's going on?"

"A lot, everywhere," Alec shrugged. "Thought you were on top of all that. Me, I'm just a bodyguard, right?"

"No, I mean…," Logan began. "Max said you were acting… a little off. I know we cleared up things after I spoke to Asha, but now I'm wondering. No offense, but you're never this… mature."

"Oh, don't let that worry you," Alec said affably. "You've just never dealt with me in mission mode. Discipline, duty, focus. The mission is what matters and stuff like that. That's where I'm at right now. I'll get back to inappropriate comments and slacking off once this is done. Good luck and give my best to Max."

He clapped Logan bracingly on the shoulder and walked out of the room whistling.

# # # #

Max lay under the sheets of Logan's bed listening to the soft murmur of his light snore. She stared at the ceiling as her mind slugged her with one thought after another. Logan had been more of an optimist than she. In anticipation of the treatment being successful, he had a romantic evening waiting for them back at his home. When Brezhenski's vaccination proved successful, Logan announced their plans were set for the evening.

It was not the fairy tale setting his penthouse would have been, but she had no qualms about the location. She understood why he did not want to wait until there was a better time. They had put this night off for two years.

She joined him, gladly if hesitantly. Now, she was awake in the still of the night, wondering what should happen next. Her mind was restless and itched with questions and comments that brought her no peace.

It was nice, she thought with a sigh as she shifted under the sheets.

She wasn't disappointed. However, she was acutely aware that she also wasn't unconscious from a tidal wave of ecstasy. Not that she needed to be. Logan was a capable lover. He was thoughtful and gentle. She had no complaints. It was… nice.

That was the problem. It was just nice.

She felt ashamed of herself for expecting something more. This what worried her about this evening. There was no way it could live up to her desires, her unrequited fantasies. She had yearned to be with Logan for so long that truthfully she felt certain he could never live up to her imaginings of the evening. Dinner was simple but elegant, but they'd had fancy and special dinners before. There were candles and some Italian dish whose name she never fully caught, like they had often before. There was some dusty bottle of wine; Logan was quite impressed with the name of it and its history—like he had been so often. He also served some dessert that had layers of cream and warm fruit. It was quite classy.

Max had no complaints.

Except that it was basically the same evening they'd had together numerous times over the previous two years. Only, in the past, there was a longing in her heart for it to be more than just dinner that gave those previous evening a bittersweet romantic feel. Their tortured love always ending with nothing more than a longing glance.

Now, that immense chasm was crossed, and she was disappointed. It was rare that she felt reduced to her feline genes, but during this evening, Max felt like she should be sitting on a velvet pillow the whole time like a prized pet on display.

Logan's nerves were evident. Hers as well, although for a very different reason. He had longed to be with her and worried about getting every aspect of the night perfect. Max worried there was too much anticipation and hype in their minds (and bodies) for the night to meet their expectations. While she was certain Logan was not disappointed (his slight grin on his sleeping face told the story), Max felt guilty that she was not as satisfied.

She was mostly happy, she supposed. This was a good evening. There was no terrible moment of the virus suddenly returning with a vengeance. There was no abrupt interruption from friend or foe alike informing them of some catastrophe. No one even accidentally interrupted and needed to bid a hasty and awkward retreat.

It was… placid. That was the word. It was like a smooth body of water. No battles. No gales. Nothing to cause any tumult. Of course, that also meant there were no ripples and certainly no waves, the kind that could crash over her with immense power or toss her in a wild but exhilarating, passionate way.

The most exciting thing was her previous excitement for the evening. The disappointment, she decided, was unworthy of her. It was selfish and shallow, an observation she would expect of Alec rather than herself.

Alec?

No.

She shifted restlessly in the bed as she scolded herself for the thought and the slight pang of regret she felt in her stomach. There should be no thoughts of Alec. Not at this time and not in this place. Max found herself thinking and dreaming of him too often in her own bed as it was. He was not going to invade her time with Logan, especially while they were in bed. Waking moments in the command center and unconscious flashes in her subconscious during dream states were bad enough; a post-coital appearance in her mind was inconceivable and unconscionable.

Max sighed quietly and looked at the clock on the bedside table. One hour. It had been one hour since dinner ended, and they had repaired to Logan's bedroom. It had been roughly 30 minutes since Logan dropped off to sleep. Max again scolded herself for keeping track so precisely, particularly the part where the 30 minutes prior was spent on a few things in addition to actual physical contact. The lighting of more candles, the queuing up of some musical composition that Logan favored and then a slow peeling of clothing. That left only a fraction of their time together as actual time together.

Prior to this night with Logan, the only sexual contact MX had in the previous two years was a heat-induced frenzy with Rafer. She was still ashamed of that. She hated when she succumbed to the animalistic urges of her DNA. It made her a slave to the cocktail so purposefully brewed in the Manticore lab. It was unfair. Not all female transgenics suffered from it—only those with the right amount of feline DNA. The males did not have to worry about their own urges. They either appeared to have none or were able to work them into their everyday life (like Alec) by hitting on or simply putting it to any woman who caught their eyes (again, like Alec).

Stop it, Max scowled and punched a divot in her pillow. No more of the A-word.

She either needed to get up and find something to do until Logan woke or get her mind to relax enough to sleep. Letting her mind drift or (worse) fixate on the obnoxious pain in the ass who was making plans to have his own luxury spa weekend (probably complete with an after symposium visit from whoever the hottest female at the conference turned out to be) during their security duty for BioCorp in two weeks time made her angry. She gnashed her teeth and reminded herself that thoughts of Alec had no place in her head while she was with Logan. Alec, she was certain, wasn't burdened with thoughts of her at this time or any time he was away from her. He was certainly back at TC at that moment, she reasoned, not giving her any thought.

# # # #

Max stood in front of the blueprints of the Crystal Mountain Resort. It was a sprawling complex at the foot of the mountain some 50 miles south of Seattle. There were dense forests surrounding it. It was a bad location to guard; a great location to ambush. It was remote, and there was only one, serpentine road leading to the hotel.

She studied the layout of the hotel, the service elevators, stairways, ventilation system and even the electrical system. She wanted to dissection the hotel and know every entry and exit possibility so she could formulate a contingency plan for each should it prove to be an incursion point. As she looked at the plans now pinned to the wall, she heard someone enter the office. Max continued to focus on the mechanical drawings as the visitor approached and stood very close.

Alec looked over Max's shoulder and studied the plans as well. He was near enough to stand in her shoes. He reached around herand pointed to the east side of the structure. She swallowed hard as his body brushed against hers.

"We should make sure we consider timing and weather issues, not just points of access," he said, tapping the drawing. "Here, along the east, the sun will be rising around 7:50. Depending on cloud cover, that could make a full scale onslaught harder to spot."

Max nodded. She doubted any trouble would arrive in such a blaze of aggression. However, she had tasked everyone involved with the BioCorp job to give her every idea or possibility they could think of. Everyone had offered suggestions, but no one had offered more than Alec. She was surprised, impressed even, at his tactical mind. They were now scraping the bottom of the barrel with possibilities, but he was still offering them hours after everyone else had given up, gone to bed or headed off for other pursuits. Alec alone remained, staring at the plans with her and throwing out any suggestion that came to mind.

"Weather," she nodded. "I never thought about weather. Why didn't I think about weather?"

"Because you're thinking of a million other things," he said, leaning closer still, his cheek within a hair's width of brushing against hers as he looked over her shoulder.

Max sighed and growled. She hung her head then shook it. She was startled a moment later when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she asked suddenly.

"A stressed leader is a bad leader," Alec said, kneading the knots in her shoulders. "You're too tense, Max."

"Stop that," she said.

"Why?" he asked, continuing. "Does it hurt? Bother you?"

"No, it's… good," she said, stretching her neck languidly to the side for a moment. "It's just… don't."

"Don't worry," he said without pausing in the massage. "I'm not going to ask you to return the favor, and I won't tell you to turn around to I can work on the front side."

Max chuckled and hung her head. She was stressed. She was worried. She was also hungry and her head was spinning from all the planning, strategizing, tearing apart of the plans and the strategies. She moaned lightly as the knots in her shoulders and neck grew more supple under his touch. The strength and warmth of his hands was relaxing yet invigorating.

"Alec," she said softly, knowing she should pull away or make him stop, but at the same time regretting it. "Why are you still here?"

"You said we're working together," he replied. "Work's not done."

"You're never this dedicated," she noted. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Some of the best stories you could ever hope to hear," Alec said. "Like, this time Biggs and I had to hike our way out of Afghanistan over a mountain. Talk about cold. You ever climbed to 28,000 feet? It's like the sky loses all color; it's not blue anymore because the air is too thin to reflect the colors in the sunlight so everything gets dark and kind of black, but at night…. The stars, Max, would blow your mind."

"Stop it," she said shaking her head.

"Okay, how about this other time," he continued, "I was coming back from Bulgaria. I had to sabotage a computer and corrupt the files belonging to this guy who trafficked girls into brothels in…"

"Oh, I don't want to hear this," Max said, twisting out of his grasp and turning to glare at him. "Any of it."

"Oh, come on," he said. "I wasn't buying the girls. I was screwing over the guy who was selling them. I offered to kill him."

"Alec," she shook her head and walked away. "New rule: No more sharing from you."

"Seriously?" he asked, folding his arms. "I'm hurt by that, Max. We're going to work together on this operation and you hardly know me."

"Hardly know you?" she gaped. "Alec, I know all I need to know about you—more than I need to know, in fact. Lately, you never shut up about… you."

He stared back at her, offering her an honestly disappointed and mildly offended expression.

"I want you to know me," he said after a lengthy pause.

Max looked at him with an uncertain expression. She heard the desperation and yearning in his tone. There was desire in his eyes and something she hadn't seen from him since the night Ames White placed an explosive in his head: fear.

"Alec?" she asked hesitantly.

"Know what?" he said standing up quickly and offering a fake yawn. "It's late. I need some rest, and you apparently want to be alone. I'll… pick up on this tomorrow."

He turned to leave but did not get to the door before she called him back.

"Alec, I didn't mean that like it sounded," Max said. "I'm just… There's a lot going on and I'm not… handling it well."

"You're trained to handle it," he offered. "You're specifically engineered to handle it better than this. The BioCorp thing is a cakewalk, Max. What's the real problem?"

She shook her head. She didn't know. Not for certain. Saying so wouldn't help matters, nor would telling Alec that whatever it was, he was playing a role in it. He hadn't asked her about her night with Logan. Not that she expected him to, but she had anticipated several loaded comments about it. But none were spoken. He was restrained, tame almost, and for reasons she didn't care to probe, she was the one who felt regret.

# # # #

The next 48 hours were busy as they finished prepping for their journey to the Crystal Mountain Resort. The plan was for the support team (Cactus, Taylor, Zero and Dylan) to take their posts at intervals. Two showing up early as new hires for BioCorp security. The other two doing the same as security for the resort. Max and Alec were to journey to the resort together in a car arranged by Logan. Their cover stories were that of a company president and her subordinate who were attending the conference with an eye toward investing.

There was no additional information on the threat BioCorp feared. Logan's sources were proving unhelpful, which made Max edgy. Alec was relaxed and unconcerned. He prophesied, much to her aggravation, that the intel was wrong and they were in for a quiet and uneventful few days in the mountains. Max feared he wasn't taking it seriously and hoped she was wrong. She was, however, no longer feeling guilty that she had called a week earlier to nix his plans for an upgraded room. It would not look good for their cover story if her assistant had the best room in the hotel when she was stuck in an economy room. As they made the last hairpin turn on the mountain road and the majestic hotel came into view, Max smiled anticipating the look for surprise on Alec's face when he learned he was staying in simple room with a single bed, no Jacuzzi tub, no balcony and no view of the mountain. She grinned remembering the best part: His previously paid upgrade would not be refunded. That, she thought, will teach him to break protocol and try to one up the boss.

They entered the soaring lobby with its fountain and marble floors. Max quickly made her way to the reception desk while Alec wandered the room, taking in the surroundings. She wanted to check in and be able to stand back and observe the disappointment on Alec's face when his "vacation in the mountains" fell apart. She quickly placed her new ID and reservation paperwork on the desk as a young man with spiky hair and pock-marked face and a name tag that read "Chip" greeted her with a practiced smile. He typed into the computer then chewed his lip and looked back at Max with an apologetic expression as he told her she did not have a room.

"I'm sorry, what?" Max asked the desk clerk. "You don't have my reservation?"

"Sorry, Ma'am," Chip replied. "It appears you canceled it."

"No, I didn't," she shook her head.

"Is there a problem?" as stuffy, bald man with a suit and no nametag asked as he stepped closer. "I'm the manager, Mr. Thomas."

"Yes, sir," Chip replied nervously. "It appears this reservation was canceled, except she now says that didn't happen. She's here for the conference."

"Let me see," the man said, furiously typing on the computer. "Sorry for the inconvenience. The software was recently upgraded and there are a few bugs still. Ah, here it is. Yes, a cancellation on Sunday by Ms. Olivia Connors."

"No," Max said as she felt someone arrive behind her. "I didn't cancel my reservation on Sunday. I… It wasn't mine that was cancelled."

From the closeness of the body and the invasion of her personal space, she knew it must be Alec. She turned her head slightly, feeling her face grow red with embarrassment and anger, to see him grinning happily at her.

"Something wrong?" Alec asked. "They lose the reservation?"

Max could not tell if he was genuinely surprised she did not have a room or if this was part of some elaborate double cross. She clenched her jaw and offered him a hard stare.

"Apparently," she said then focused her anger on Chip. "Just get me a room."

"Well, you see," Chip said swallowing nervously, "there aren't any. We're sold out."

"Sold out?" Alec shook his head. "That is a problem."

"Sir, I can help you," Thomas stated crisply, leaving Max to deal with Chip, as he stepped to the next terminal.

Alec handed him the print out of his confirmation with his phony ID.

"Well, you see, if Olivia's reservation is missing…," he began, the delight in his voice obvious.

"No need to worry, Mr. Greer," the manager replied sycophantically as he typed quickly. "Ah, here yours is. Mr. Ian Greer. Ah, that explains it. So sorry, Ma'am. This was our mistake."

The manager nodded to Max, his tone taking on an unctuous nature.

"It was?" Max asked. "So you have my room?"

"Yes, we have yours and Mr. Greer's room," he nodded. "You also have our congratulations. We did not think to transfer your registration to your upgraded room when you cancelled. That's all. So sorry for the delay. I presume you and your fiancé will each need separate keys. Will you need more than one each?"

"I'm sorry?" Max gaped and looked back at Alec who looked equally dumbfounded but recovered quicker than she did.

"No, one each is fine," Alec replied.

"Of course, sir," Thomas replied, handing Alec a business card. "If there is anything else I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please do not hesitate to contact me. Would you like us to take your bags?"

"Oh, no need, Mr. Thomas, but thank you," Alec said with a professional smile then draped his arm around Max and turned her toward the elevators. "See dear, I told you it would be fine."

Max glared at him but did not resist his attempts to lead her away as they crossed the lobby to the lift. They entered the car and the doors closed. The moment after they did, Alec clapped his hands and doubled over laughing. He grinned widely and tears threatened to stream out of his eyes.

"Oh, this is priceless," he chuckled. "You tried to screw me out of my room and did it to yourself instead!"

"Shut up," she growled and thrust her elbow into his chest. "You did this!"

"I did, but it was so worth it," Alec winced in pain but kept grinning.

"That is less pain than you deserve," Max seethed.

Alec stood up straight, taking a painful breath, then put his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, now sweetie, don't be like that," he continued. "This will be like a prelude to the honeymoon."

Max turned swiftly and put her hand to his throat as the car continued to rise. She pinned him against the wall, but he kept smiling.

"You know, if this keeps up," he said, his voice slightly strangled under the pressure of her hand, "you're definitely sleeping on the couch."

"What did you do?" she seethed as the doors opened.

She released Alec from her hold an stomped down the hall. He followed her, still chuckling, as he explained.

"Nothing really," he said vehemently. "Honestly, Max. I didn't do anything. I called and confirmed my reservation, and they told me it was on hold because they received a call downgrading my room, but they needed me to confirm that was the case. I told them I didn't want to downgrade. I said they must have misunderstood when my fiancée called. They apologized for the mistake and said they could give me another upgrade for free; I got the penthouse suite out of it. That's all. They must have decided you meant to cancel yours on their own because I did not do that."

They arrived at the door. Alec slotted the key and pushed open the door to reveal a sprawling room with an amazing view of the mountains. The room was actually a suite with a separate sitting room, a bathroom the size of normal bedroom and an immense sleeping chamber with a bed that could have been its own sector in Seattle. Alec nodded acceptingly as he turned to Max and grinned.

Max turned and glared at him. She wasn't sure she believed his plea of innocence until that moment. After looking at the exquisite accommodations, she knew he was being truthful. If he wanted to mess with her as payback for trying to put him in an economy room, he would never have saddled himself with her in a room like this. He would have wanted to savor it for himself, taunting and teasing her about it or make her beg to crash on one of the three leather sofas in the sitting area near the fireplace. He may have even resisted giving her that much as a room like this was a place where he could take any number of unsuspecting conference attendees. Digs like this would make scoring even easier for him.

"I'll… sleep there," Max said throwing her bag disgustedly on the floor near one of the sofas.

"You sure?" he asked, looking into the bedroom. "You could put four people in that bed and not notice."

"I'm fine," she scowled.

"Suit yourself," Alec said and walked to the windows with his arms thrown wide. He opened the French doors to the balcony and inhaled the crisp air deeply. "I should live like this."

"We're not here to relax or enjoy the view," she said, although she caught herself taking a lingering look at his posterior as he leaned forward on the railing.

Alec turned slyly, as if feeling the weight of her stare. He re-entered the room and grinned assuredly at her as he leered back. The power and intentions behind his gaze made her mouth go dry and made her skin feel hot and tingly.

"Speak for yourself," he said.

"How have you not suffocated under the weight of your ego?" Max asked, but she heard her voice quake with weakness where there should have been a hint of acid.

Rather than jab back with another comment, Alec walked up to her and looked her up and down with a smoldering expression. When he spoke, it was in a hushed and husky tone and gave Max shivers.

"Practice," he said. "Your clothes… you going to leave them on the floor?"

"Excuse me?" Max asked, mesmerized by his stare. She wasn't sure precisely what he said or what it meant, but she feared that if he asked her to do anything with her clothes in that instant, she would consider it.

"Your clothes," Alec said, looking down at her bag as his tone shifted back to casual. "You should hang them up; we're supposed to look like fussy professionals in the morning and at the reception in the evening."

Max nodded and turned her back. She grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom to hang up the garments so the heat of the shower could steam the wrinkles out. Once inside, she took a deep breath and leaned heavily on the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her eyes looked dazed, much as they had back at TC when she feared she was in heat.

Maybe it's an allergy, she thought fanning herself as her mind flashed back to the way Alec looked at her in the room moments before. If there is anyone on the planet I would be allergic to, it's probably Alec, she nodded. Her moment of private wondering was interrupted as she suddenly heard his voice in the doorway startling her.

"Hot flash?" he asked. He stood blocking the doorway with his arms folded as he leaned on the door frame.

"No," she scoffed. "And do you mind? This isn't community space."

"My room," he shrugged.

"Our room," she said.

"So, are we engaged or just shacking up for the conference?" he asked curiously.

"Are you going to be like this the whole time?" she asked turning her back to him as she began pulling her clothing from her bag.

"I'm me all the time," he offered. "You know, I'm no expert on women's clothing—other than how to get you to take them off—but isn't it easier to hang them up if you hangers?"

Max growled in frustration and shoved past him back into the bedroom. She pounded across the room and opened the closet doors and quickly grabbed several hangers from the closet. She half expected to turn around and find Alec on her heels. He seemed to live there lately. Every time she turned around, there was Alec just a few inches behind her.

However, she was mistaken. She turned, mildly disappointed and quite surprised, to find he had not followed her. She returned to the bathroom to learn why.

"Nice," he said, holding a lacey top that he had extracted from her bag. "You go braless with this or…"

"Give me that," she said, snatching it from his fingers. "Enough, Alec! Okay, I get it. You're enjoying this. I am not."

"Then why do you keep smiling?" he asked.

"I am not smiling now," she said firmly.

"Not with your mouth, no," he shook his head while seeming to agree with her.

"No," she shook her head and pushed past him again and started forcefully thrusting her clothing onto the hangers.

"But with your eyes," he assured her and gently brushed his fingers against her cheek. "A little bit, right there in the corners."

"Stop it," she said calmly while batting his hand away. She shook her head to clear it as she felt a fiery surge from his touch. "Game over, Alec, or so help me I will kick your ass clear across this suite."

Alec laughed and shook his head as he walked away unconcerned.

"You're so uptight," he said but sounded appreciative more than critical. "You almost make bad-tempered sexy, Max. That's impressive."

He returned to the sitting room and turned his attention to the immense flat screen TV on them wall above the fireplace. He turned it on and sunk into one of the sofas with his propped up on the coffee table. He sighed contentedly, appearing to forget Max was even there. She peered at him from the doorway, watching him lose all interest in hassling her as entertainment. She ducked back into the bathroom to finish hanging her clothing. She picked up her silk and lace camisole from the floor and swallowed hard.

# # # #

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking the corridors and grounds of the hotel. Max took the north and east sides; Alec covered the south and west. They met back in the room as the winter sun began to sink behind the mountain. Despite her normally elevated body temperature, Max was chilled by the time she arrived. Alec was not there. She called his cellphone to determine that he had not gotten lost. He reported he had not and was in the lobby on his way up to the room. Max decided to make use of the quiet and went to the most attractive aspect of the room: the deep jet tub in the bathroom. She heard Alec return and shouted to him that he was, under no circumstances, to enter the bathroom until after she left it.

She was hesitant to climb into the foamy, steamy waters at first, but it beckoned her without yielding. She sunk into the hot waters. She steeped there until the water grew tepid. She climbed out, her skin wrinkled like a prune but smelling of gardenias. While not usually a girlie girl, there was something about the luxury of the posh room that made her weak to its pleasures.

She stepped into the living room to find Alec staring at the TV, watching some loud and busy music video, then something involving a volcano, then a weather report. He flicked through channel after channel, staying on none long enough to get involved or interested in it. How Alec, Max thought as she shook her head.

"You enjoying the view of the back of my head?" he asked without turning. "You know, if you'd have been in there another few minutes, I was going to violate your order not to go in there. I was beginning to wonder if you drowned."

"I had it covered," Max replied walking casually to the other side of the sofa. "Find anything on your walk through?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "Trees, parking lot, hallways. Just like we expected. If not for this room, this trip would be a waste of time."

He then stood abruptly and stripped off his shirt. Max stared at him, wondering why he was undressing but also admiring the definition of his abs and pectoral muscles.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Max asked, trying to keep her face impassive. "We're sharing a room, Alec. Don't get any other ideas."

He shook his head and laughed lightly.

"Well, I'm not the one having those ideas, Max," he said heading back toward the bedroom. "I'm hopping in the shower now that you've finished doing a hundred laps in the tub. Oh, by the way, I ordered room service; if it shows up, sign for it."

Max looked down, embarrassed by her in correct assumption and a little put off by his summary dismissal of her allegation of ulterior motives.

"What did you get to eat?" she asked.

"Why, worried I didn't ask for oysters?" he inquired, turning to grin at her mischievously. "If you want some, call the kitchen. For me, I ordered real food. I ordered enough for both of us so feel free to eat whatever you like, just leave some for me."

Alec then left the room. Max heard the shower start some time later. She sat on the couch staring at the fireplace. It was a gas fed flame and while the room was plenty warm, she enjoyed the flickering light it cast across the room so she left it on. She stared at the dancing flames entranced by their swirling light until she was startled by sounds coming from the bathroom. The room was well insulated so she doubted that the average person would have noticed the sound. She perked her sensitive ears to it and her face broke into a spontaneous smile: Alec was singing in the shower.

She did not know the song, but she wasn't all that into music. She listened to his crooning with appreciation. Alec's voice was actually rather smooth and controlled, making it evident he did this often. She continued to grin, listening to the tune (trying not to imagine how he looked in there) as she watched the fire. Room service arrived several minutes later. The gloved waiter rolled in the table covered with silver domed dishes. Max delved into the wallet she located in Alec's jacket pocket and gave a sizeable tip to the man before she began peaking under the covers. She had to give this to Alec, he did know how to treat himself. Every delectable item on the menu was there (including desserts).

She heard the shower stop and figured if he took as much time getting dressed after the shower as he took in there, the food would be cold so she helped herself. After all, she reasoned, he told her to do so. From the remaining cash in his wallet, he could order more if she polished off something he wanted for himself.

"Did you leave me any?" he asked as he stepped back into the room to see her seated at the table with a full plate in front of her.

"You said to start without you," Max reminded him then blanched as he took a seat beside her.

He was wearing only a robe. Max swallowed the green bean in her mouth quickly.

"Why are you wearing that?" she asked as he began picking through the entrees.

"Want me to take it off?" he asked. "Max, I gotta say, you are spending a lot of time undressing me with your eyes. We've got work to do here. If it helps you rest those peepers, I can just strip down right now and make it easy for you."

"You really are a pig," she said, but her face felt hot. She stared down at her plate and pushed the food around forcefully.

"I'm going to bed to get some sleep after I eat, and I don't wear clothes when I sleep usually," he said. "Too damn hot."

"You think so," she scoffed trying to sound sour and hoping her voice didn't sound as appreciative to him as it had to her.

Alec chuckled and shook his head. He did not respond, which left her wondering why. The dinner was quiet for several long minutes. Max wasn't sure what she should say as she could think of no topic of interest to her. She also wasn't sure her voice wouldn't betray her as her throat felt tight and dry. She took a long pull on her beer bottle then stared at it, thinking she finally had something to say.

"You spent all this money on this meal," she noted. "I mean, it's gourmet all the way, but you didn't order wine. You went with beer."

"Not a wine kind of guy," he shrugged, snatching the wedge of chocolate and strawberry cheese cake on the corner of the table. "Wine is… pretentious. It, and the people who think it's the be all end all, parade around like it's the nectar of the dogs when all it really is is nothing more than arrogant and obsequious old grape juice. Beer, however, is honest."

"Honest?" she asked.

She wondered if she was over analyzing as she wondered if the discussion was larger than simply the difference between beer and wine. She told herself to stop looking for trouble and reminded herself this was Alec and deep was not something he did.

"Yes, honest," he said. "You can think it's simple or less than impressive because it's just fermented hops and barley. But there's nothing wrong with that. That is what it is. Nothing more. Nothing less and it doesn't try to pass itself off as anything else. That makes it genuine. Sure, it's not polished or flashy and it probably won't win any awards for style, but it also isn't trying to impress or be something it is not so… honest."

Max cocked her head to the side. She knew she wasn't imagining it. There was a look in Alec's eye. He was baiting her. He was subtly pushing buttons and drawing her a picture. She thought back to the discussion in her office about what she saw in Logan and Alec's admission of jealousy.

"What's going on?" Max asked. "Are you trying to impress me?"

"Are you impressed?" he grinned.

"By you?" Max scoffed. "No."

"Then that's not what I was trying to do," Alec shrugged. "You know, I can be honest with you and just be talking."

"The question is why," she asked.

"We work together," he said. "You should know me better—the real me, not the Alec you've made up your mind about based on a year of extreme circumstances."

"Alec, very little about you isn't extreme," she offered. "You know, you might not be so aggravating if you didn't talk so much. You might seem more impressive if you kept quieter—a little mystery might help your image."

"Ah, you said more impressive—that means you are impressed," he reasoned and flashed a wide, satisfied grin. "Look, Maxie, I spent the first 20 years of my life basically alone. I actually don't like it much. Talking is one way to not have to think about it. Besides, I'm a fascinating kind of guy."

"Are you?" Max asked. "Fascinating?"

"Unbelievably," Alec nodded. "World traveler."

"Covert assassin," she translated.

"Multilingual," he continued.

"Again, covert assassin," Max said.

"Ballroom dancer, " he countered. Max choked on her guffaw. "That also was part of one of the covert operations, but not as an assassin."

"Ballroom?" she repeated as she laughed in disbelief.

"Okay, maybe not like competition level, but there was this royal who was attending gala at the British Embassy in Rome when I was on my way back from Bulgaria and I was supposed to…," he began but Max pounded her hand on the table as she continued to laugh and shook her head. "I'm serious."

She opted to believe him, once she got her breath back, rather than force him to demonstrate. She did not want to think what tangoing with Alec in his hotel room while he was wearing only a robe would do to her dreams. She had to get some sleep if she was going to be at her best over the next two days, but she did not know if she was still talking in her sleep. Calling out Alec's name while he was in the next room would simply lead to trouble she did not want to tackle.

They spent a long evening at the table. Later, as she lay on the couch watching the flames waving her off to sleep, Max couldn't recall most of the topics. She knew only that the evening disappeared more quickly than she liked. Whether it was the good food, the comfortable setting, or the fact that she found she laughed more with Alec than she did most other people, she felt relaxed despite the unknowns they were facing over the next two days. She lost track of time or her concerns as the night grew deeper. By the time she was nearly asleep, she remembered that she had not called Logan. She looked quickly at her phone and saw that she had missed a single call. She saw that it was from him, but there was no message.

# # # #

Morning arrived. Max felt terrible about missing Logan's call. She tried to call him back, but left a message apologizing for her oversight. She did not tell him why she missed the call; she couldn't say for certain why. She just never heard the phone ring. Whether that was because there was something wrong with the signal in the mountains, whether she was in the tub at the time or she was too involved with something else, she did not know. And, she decided, it did not matter. What mattered was concentrating on the task at hand: The conference.

She was up before Alec, unsurprisingly. She got dressed in her suit and waited for him as he took his time getting ready. First, he took his time eating breakfast that he ordered from room service. She wolfed down a piece of toast and urged him to hurry up. He did not rush his breakfast and took a shower, again singing through it, before appearing dressed in his day clothing.

"Just stick to your brief," Max ordered him one final time as she straightened her jacket using the reflection in the balcony doors as a mirror.

She wore a dark skirt suit. Despite Alec's recommendation, the hem line was conservative. She also had her hair pulled back in a stuffy low pony tail and sported a pair of dark rimmed faux glasses. Her shoes were of the dull and sensible fashion. According to Logan, this look would go better with her cover ID. Max agreed.

Alec had more freedom with his ID. He was the assistant, the much needed and well-informed right hand of the woman in-charge, but that meant he had a privileged post and likely would flaunt his coveted position to his co-workers. For that reason, Logan told Max not to veto whatever he chose for his wardrobe. She wondered why Logan would mention this until she saw the news article showing a break-in at a high end store in Section 3. Alec, of course, stole only the very best.

"Trust me, Max," he said in a bored tone as he stepped out of the bedroom. "Not a virgin."

"Yeah, I know, but…," she said turning to face him. The rest of her sentence got stuck in her throat.

When Alec stole the very best, he made sure it was the absolute best. The suit, something surely with a designer Italian label that even the most corrupt politician in Seattle would covet, was a dark, supple fabric that look like it was cut specifically for him. The shirt was stark and crisp; the tie was flecked with a color that perfectly matched his eyes. For a moment, Max actually felt under dressed and more like the assistant until Alec spoke.

"Don't carry that leather folder," he said, taking it from her. "I work for you. You're hands free. I'm the labor here."

"Right," she nodded, smoothing the side of her hair. "Right. Okay. So, we work the room. We look for whoever doesn't seem to fit in."

"Other than us," he nodded. "And no cervical breaks if we find someone. Check."

Max narrowed her eyes at him as he grinned back in mock obedience. She was firm about this. He was not to use force on anyone unless there was no other way to deal with the situation. She had his word he would follow this instruction. She looked at him and hoped she was right to trust him.

"Shall we?" he asked, pointing to the door. "Or would you prefer to delay a little longer? I'm ready to go, but if you need a few more minutes to ogle me for you pleasure and fantasies, I can wait."

"What?" Max snapped.

She scoffed and turned her head away then stomped to the elevator, looking pointedly away from him once she got inside it. She ground her teeth and murmured something about Alec being conceited and full of himself. He chuckled quietly as he joined her in the car. He stood behind her, telling her it was the proper position for a subordinate. She rolled her eyes and hoped the slight flush she felt on her face, the one that erupted every time he was this close to her lately, wasn't obvious. She punched the button for the mezzanine level where the conference was due to begin shortly.

Max took a steadying breath and caught the faintest hint of cologne. It was subtle and seductive; like Alec's suit, it was high end and likely stolen as part of the expertly crafted ensemble. It struck her as mildly odd that the scent was so faint; only someone with her senses would register it. This brought a slight blush to her cheeks and the faintest hint of a grin. She was glad he was behind her and could not see her expression. However, it seemed Alec was reading her thoughts.

"You clean up nice, too, Max," he said. "You've got that stuffy yet sexy CEO vibe going. I still think you should have gone with a shorter skirt, but that's your call. I guess this means Logan isn't all that secure, huh?"

"Logan is fine," she scowled. "I'm not a strip-o-gram. I'm serious business woman."

"Then I suggest not giving me the bedroom eyes unless you want them to think you're sleeping with your executive assistant," Alec said. "Or are we going with the fiancée twist on our story still?"

"No," she snarled and shook her head, refusing to look at him for fear her expression would confirm his allegation. "And what do you mean I'm giving you bedroom eyes? I'm not."

"Is it easier to maintain the denial act?" he asked. "I would think it gets exhausting, fighting all that frustrating resistance and camouflaging your feelings. I gotta say, you're a hell of a trooper, Max. I couldn't keep up the charade."

"What charade?" she said tensely, keeping her eyes forward. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Really?" Alec said. "You know, for me, sometimes, I think it's too bad we aren't as easily chemically manipulated as an Ordinary."

Max looked over her should at him in confusion. His face sported a serious and profound look. Alec never found anything special about a normal human. He didn't think them inferior, like the way Mole did, but he certainly never envied them. Her expression asked the question for her.

"I just mean, it's unfortunate, especially for someone as uptight as you, that we can't do like they do when we get in a situation like this," he said. "After all, there's this open bar reception tonight that could have solved your problem."

"What problem is that?" Max asked.

"Your ever-increasing attraction to me," he said confidently. "If you and I were Ordinaries, we could just get drunk and tell each other everything we're afraid to while we're sober."

"Your imagination is colossal, you know that?" she scoffed and shook her head. "I don't have anything to tell you, drunk or sober."

Alec stepped close to her, reaching his hand around her waist to the inside of her suit jacket, caressing her abdomen. He felt her muscles tighten beneath the silk and lace camisole and waited for her elbow to jab viciously into his chest, but it did not. When she did not shove him away, he leaned in to speak directly in her ear.

"Liar," he said in a raspy, breathy whisper.

The doors opened and Alec stepped out, but not before lightly running his hand over the left side of Max's ass. He kept walking, eyes forward, as she remained behind or a moment. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she pressed her mildly quivering hand to her chest over her racing heart. She shook her head and focused on her task while trying very hard not to focus on Alec as he walked way in his perfectly fitting suit that fit and draped as though it was made specifically for him and him alone.

# # # #