Been a while, sorry about that. Still saddened by the lack of Alphas fanfic but hopefully it'll pick up when the show returns. I don't own Alphas.

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Oh no. When Dr. Rosen said to keep track of Peter Collins at all costs, he couldn't have meant at all costs.

Because there was no way Rachel Pirzad was chasing down a fugitive Alpha into a strip club.

"Rachel, why'd you stop?"

Especially not with Gary Bell.

"Is he still in there? Rachel?"

"Are you two okay? Bill and Hicks are down. Nina and I are going to make sure they're okay before we get a chance to meet up with you and Gary. Do you still have visual of Collins?" Rachel reached up to the earpiece in her ear, holding a finger to it.

"He's…evading us."

"Rachel, he went in there," pointed out Gary, gesturing to the flashy building that lit up the dark street. He did not seem to realize the exact type of establishment the building fostered.

"Rachel, you need to keep track of him. He's probably too weak for another psionic attack. This is your best chance to detain him. Peter Collins is an extremely dangerous Alpha." Rachel bowed her head, before nodding surely to herself. Collins was dangerous. She had to capture him before he did more damage.

"I understand Dr. Rosen." With that, Rachel pushed back her shoulders and closed her eyes, blocking out not only sight but all other senses but smell, her nose searching for Collins' smell, the particular brand of cigarettes and cologne he liked to combine. She caught it, a trail, leading to the club but not exiting it, indicating the fugitive was still there. Sighing in resignation, Rachel allowed her others senses to flow open again, one hand briefly brushing against the holster at her hip one her touch returned, the cool metal of the government issued handgun a comfort. Weeks ago, Dr. Rosen had given Bill the task of training Nina and Rachel in firearms, just enough so they were competent in case they had to face someone dangerous (which meant basically every Alpha they faced). Gary's mother had immediately forbid such a thing, and given Gary's disposition toward violence, Dr. Rosen found it best to not allow the young man a weapon, instead giving the transducer a set of handcuffs, now the standard equipment for the team since any one of them could be in the situation needed to detain an Alpha. Needless to say, handcuffs weren't much a safety, given that most Alphas had abilities that allowed escape from such bounds.

"Gary, I'm going to need you to stay out here. I'm going in to find Collins," she said, looking him in the eye, hoping that he understood the severity of her orders. Gary shook his head, one hand brushing through the air.

"There aren't any cameras in that building. I won't be able to watch over you, Rachel. I'm going in with you. Someone needs to watch your back," argued Gary for once meeting her gaze. Rachel shook her head stepping back, closer to the club.

"Gary, it's not safe for you. Stay out here-"

"Rachel, it's not safe for you either. We're a team, okay? We work together," pressed Gary, and Rachel saw the determination in his blue eyes. She pursed her lips before nodding.

"Stay close to me."

:::

Getting in was a little too easy for Rachel's comfort, but that probably had to do with the fact that they flashed their DCIS badges at the bouncer, Gary more so eager to pronounce his presence. Declining any sort of management assistance, Rachel hesitantly eased into the club, Gary right behind her, eyes wandering all over.

It was more crowded than expected, with groups of men, most surprisingly well dressed, crowding the bar or stage, and a select few women tagging along, perhaps with their significant other or for their own pleasure. Rachel's senses tingled, picking up the obnoxious music, the smell of perfume the scantily clad women were wearing, the flashing lights, all fogging up her tracking. Avoiding a woman wearing a too short skirt and tube top, one hand balancing a tray, Rachel weaved through the crowds, one hand reaching for Gary's. She dared not look back at him, in fear of exactly how he was taking in everything.

"Rachel," he said, his voice not so confident as before, "some women aren't wearing clothes. Shouldn't we do something? That's wrong. My mom says it's lewd to wear nothing in public." Rachel shook her head, eyes scanning the men for Collins, but the club was too large, a second floor balcony overlooking the first floor, and although her eyesight was above average without blocking out her other senses, there were just too many other environmental factors that was disrupting her focus.

"Watch out for Collins," she mumbled softly to him, stopping in place, her hand clenching his, knowing he did not like to be touched, but realizing it would help her stay grounded in such an environment. Gary let out some sort of sound from behind her before moving closer, his chest nearly pushing up against her shoulder blades. Rachel tried not to imagine what caused his negative reaction, whether it was all the sounds and sights, or whether one of the young attractive employees had gotten a bit flaunty right next to the transducer.

Closing her eyes, Rachel focused all her mind on the sense of smell, the music, voices, laugher, all fading back. She breathed through her nose, catching whiffs of several things, some of which she tried not to cringe at, instead moving on, searching the mixture of smells for the distinct cologne and cigarette combination. There. Above her. Barely there, clouded by other smells, sweeter, prettier smells. Perfume. Collins was no doubt attempting to hide upstairs, perhaps in belief that surrounding himself with women would somehow wash away anything that Rosen's team could track them with. Either he didn't know about Rachel, or he was severely underestimating her.

Opening her eyes, Rachel's other senses rushed back in, her smell evening out to tolerable levels. Shaking her head to clear up any lingering blocks in her senses, the young woman looked up to search the balcony, eyes narrowed. She could not see Collins directly given the angle, but knew he was up there.

Suddenly, Rachel felt a tug on her hand. She turned, nearly walking into Gary's chest, so close he was standing behind her. He was looking at the ground, eyes flitting along the tiles, trying not to glimpse any further at the six inch neon heels that pranced around, cheeks abnormally red.

"Did you find Collins?" he asked, briefly looking up at her, before focusing on her chest, just a second, causing Rachel's eyes to widen a fraction at his gaze, before dropping to a spot on his trainers.

"Second floor," was all Rachel managed to get out, somewhat put out that Gary had been…staring at her. Something about that was not quite right – any other guy and Rachel wouldn't be so surprised, but Gary? Shaking her head, Rachel brushed away the thoughts, moving toward the stairs that led to the balcony. Best not think about something like that. Not until Collins was captured anyway.

As they climbed the stairs, Rachel let go of Gary's hand to unclip the gun holstered at her hip under her coat. Rachel was not one for violence, never having actually fired the gun at someone, but found that in the case of Peter Collins, a strong psychic with a penchant for psionic blasts, causing mind overloads, resulting in crippling pain, memory loss, and at times, when focused on one subject for too long, coma, precautions were a must. Other than avoiding eye contact, which only made his ability more effective, there was not much to do in keeping oneself safe. Even Gary, with his slight autism, was still vulnerable. Whether it was the subdued lighting, or just because of Rachel's position against the railing, no one took notice of her gun.

Finally reaching the balcony, Rachel glanced around, trying to ignore the women wearing only lacy panties and bras (and sometimes just one or the other) and focused instead on the men, looking for a tall blonde wearing a gray suit, blue button down shirt. She was about to shut down her senses again, focus on smell for a better location, despite the idea that she would be entirely vulnerable if Collins found her first and decided to unleash a psionic blast, when Gary suddenly called out.

"There!" And Rachel whipped around, catching sight Peter Collins, surrounded by a hoard of half-naked women, one hand waving bills around, the other holding a shot glass. Rachel tugged Gary behind a table, causing the man sitting there, woman on his lap, to let out a string of curses, ready to shove the Alphas somewhere else when he caught sight of Rachel's gun, and was suddenly up, causing the stripper to let out her own profanities when he dropped her.

"Bad words," mumbled Gary from next to Rachel. "This is a bad place."

The earlier man's sudden panic had sent others into a frenzy as they glanced over to see the cause of his fear, eyes nearly bulging at the sight of Rachel's unloaded gun. It would only be a matter of time before Collins noticed the balcony start to clear up, and so, Rachel turned and nodded at Gary.

"Stay here, tell Dr. Rosen we have Collins in our sight and I'm moving in." Gary returned her nod.

"Be careful, Rachel." The Persian woman sent him a smile before quickly moving to take cover behind a pillar, easing her way closer through the emptying balcony. Collins had seemed to notice something was up, especially when the music downstairs started to lower, perhaps because the establishment had finally realized that government officials was there and that business as usual was not going to work with an armed agent running around. Knowing Collins was going to run, and most likely weasel his way through the chaos for freedom, Rachel stepped from behind her shielding, pointing the gun steady with both hands at Peter Collins.

"Peter Collins! Don't move! You're under arrest!" Rachel wasn't exactly sure what else to say, so instead she focused on giving her best intimidating look, a slight sense of pride swelling up in realization that unlike the situation with the Ghost and Jessica Elkhart, she was no longer the victim. Collins sat up straighter, arms retracting from the fleeing strippers, and going up, a little too calmly for Rachel.

"Ah, and here I thought I managed to escape. I see they sent their pretty little bloodhound after me," drawled out Collins, standing up, causing Rachel to unconsciously step back.

"Stay where you are!" Collins quirked an eyebrow at her, and for a moment, Rachel wondered why he hadn't hit her with a psionic blast yet, and why the hell was she just standing there. She tried to get her legs to move, to hurry and handcuff Collins, then patiently wait for the others, eyes flicking to pick out a spot on his navy shirt, knowing that looking Collins in the eye would give his ability more of a metaphorical punch. She hoped that as Dr. Rosen had predicted, Collins would be too weak from two psionic blasts on Hicks and Bill that he wouldn't have enough energy to hit her with one, at least not strong enough to bring her down like her two other teammates.

"Are you going to shoot me?" questioned Collins, stepping closer. Rachel's knees shook. She felt sick, the gun starting to shake in her hands. She had never fired one at a person. Only at practice, with either Hicks or Bill behind her, giving her pointers, helping her focus.

"I said stay where you are!"

"I counted six when I looked up your team. Had to know who was after me, you know? I'm sure the two big guys are a bit occupied as of now, and can imagine the good Doctor isn't one for confrontation. Saw the woman too, the pretty one with that damn manipulation. Got away from her though. That leaves you, and I suppose the transducer. Where is that one, hm?" Rachel didn't say anything, pursing her lips. Collins had stopped his advance on her, and tilted his head.

"Ah. I suppose you didn't think he'd like it much here." Collins smiled then, and one of his hands moved to his temple, eyes now narrowed as he tried to catch Rachel's gaze but she focused on his navy shirt, ignoring the stinging sensation running up the side of her head.

Her parents. Her mother. Kicking her out. Dinner. Those men she went out with. Men she could barely kiss. Her mother's disappointment. Father's disapproval. Parents. Sister. Fake. Fake. Her ability. Useless.

Thoughts were rushing in fast, skipping around, some memories, some just abstract concepts, and Rachel realized Collins was trying to overwhelm her mind from the inside, and the stinging was the mild side effect – he was too weak to cause full on pain, especially since he hadn't made eye contact, but it was enough for one of Rachel's hands to move up to grasp her head, eyes unfocused as she tried to hold herself together, to ignore the stinging sensation and block back the thoughts that were starting to cloud her mind.

"Next time you point a gun at me," started Collins, his own voice slightly strained from constantly hitting her with low level psionic blasts in his weakened state, "try turning the safety off." Rachel saw his feet shuffle closer, but her gun wouldn't raise, pointed at the ground now as she tried to maintain balance, massaging her temple.

Then, the sound of metal hitting a surface and the pain had suddenly eased up, as if a burden lifted, and all that was left was a dull ache. Rachel looked up from Collins' crumbled form on the ground to see Gary standing over the psychic, holding up a chair, blinking wide eyed at Rachel before glancing down at the unconscious Collins.

"He should get a partner to watch his back next time."

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I'm not sure if Gary's reaction to a strip club is appropriate given his autism but I tried, haha. Rachel I figured would sort of put it to the back of her mind and focus on the mission, but clearly be uncomfortable.