Emperor Xander
by Chaos_eternus

Thirty-Six

"It still doesn't make any sense," Harry grimaced, " Willow has checked her out so we know Faith isn't a magical construct but I can't see how else this could be…"

"I know," Helen replied, "It's this town, it just has to be. I mean, finding out you were a spy, that was weird enough, but this…"

"I don't think we can blame this on Sunnydale," Faisal noted, his expression grim as he nervously flicked his eyes between the Taskers, just waiting for one or the other of them to explode in anger. Or maybe both…

"I mean, we know Dana and Faith met months before Halloween and…" he shrugged, "Halloween was when everything started to change."

"True," Helen sighed, "but it doesn't make it any easier."

"It does and it doesn't,"

"Harry, you can't seriously be considering…"

"I don't know how she came to be or why she came to be," he shrugged, "but blood doesn't lie. Genetics doesn't lie."

"Well, how else do you explain this?" Helen grimaced, nervously shaking her head, "I mean I didn't carry both of them. You know that, the Doctors know that and even if I was and nobody had noticed, I would certainly have noticed the birth and nobody would have been able to sneak out past Gibbs with a baby!"

"I know," Harry shrugged, "but she is our daughter. Blood doesn't lie."

"It has too, I mean how else can she be physically and genetically the same to a point. How else can she have the exact same memories as Dana up to a specific date?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that.

"It's almost as if she's a copy," Faisal noted and then shrunk back in his seat at the look the confused and distraught Helen sent him.

"Did you speak to the Colonel?"

Harry sighed, not needing to ask which Colonel his wife was referring too, "Yes."

"And?"

"He suspects something," Harry shrugged, "he gave me his word he would call back when he knew what was going on, but he definitely had his suspicions."

"Did he explain what those were?" Faisal asked after a few moments of Helen glaring at Harry.

"No," Harry admitted, "but he's solid. If he says he'll get back he will."

Helen leaned back in her seat, mollified.

"Still, you can not seriously…"

"I can," Harry interrupted making Helens eyes widen in surprise, it wasn't often he interrupted her and certainly not with such a reproving note in his voice, "it doesn't matter how she came to be. She is genetically identical to Dana, she has all the memories of Dana up to her thirteenth birthday… in many ways she is Dana, just with a far harsher last few years of life."

"She could be lying," Helen noted, "I mean, about the memories."

"Xander and Willow say she isn't and they both have their own ways of knowing," he shrugged, "I believe she is telling the truth as well."

"Harry…" she sighed, knowing she was close to losing this argument and a large part of her was wondering why she was arguing anyway.

"Helen," he replied gently, "we have another daughter."

A flutter filled her heart for a moment at those words, and then she burst out laughing, "Well Harry, you never did figure out how to do things the conventional way did you, so I suppose this is just par for the course."

"You're blaming this on me?" Harry shot back, relief colouring his voice, "how is this my responsibility?"

"Well," she grinned, "if you're insisting she s your daughter, I would presume you had some part in her coming to be…"

Harry choked back a laugh a Faisal quietly fled the room, knowing the following 'argument' could go on for hours.

Limping, Willow pushed open the main doors of the CRD complex, her left hand pressing hard against her right shoulder, a whimper escaping for just a moment as the pressure of the door sent a shaft of pain shooting through her body.

Sweat and blood marring her face, she tried to walk down the corridor, knowing there was no-one meant to be in this part of the complex yet except the work crews who would have gone home before sundown but also knowing this was the nearest and quickest way in.

Besides, there was likely to be a patrol in the area somewhere and if she was lucky, they would find her.

Of course, she hadn't been lucky so far tonight.

She tripped over a discarded tool, a scream being torn from her mouth as she hit the ground. The right arm of her armour fell out of position, revealing torn connectors and cables as it slid out from underneath the massive shoulder piece.

The armour, originally painted in just four colours, the white, black gold and reds of the Adeptus Sororitas had been repainted into urban camouflage of mottled greys. Now, that was stained bright red around her arm and head, a slow trickle of blood dripping onto the floor where Willow lay panting in pain.

She reached up with her good hand for her helmet, and then dropped it, knowing the bent and shattered shape wasn't going to be coming off anytime soon and that, is she didn't get assistance soon, it might not matter.

She wished she had her gun still, nobody would miss the sound of that firing this close to the complex and it would definitely get a response. Her bolter would be better, that sound was unmistakably different from any other weapon in the arsenal and its firing would provoke an even stronger response.

Of course, it was in the armour awaiting either a special occasion or a fresh load of ammo, whichever came first.

As for her backup weapon, the las-pistol… well, that didn't work so well whilst bent into a pretzel.

She groaned, and turned over, trying to force herself to her feet but her right arm swung unnaturally, banging into a workman's desk and she dropped to her knees, sobbing, the sound coming distorted through her helm.

She edged away from the desk then tried rising once more, managing to get to her feet. She walked all of ten paces forward before slipping with a scream to the floor once more.

This time she didn't get up.

"All Units, reports any sightings of Miss Rosenberg immediately." Xander shot to his feet, his head whipping around to the radio on his desk, the bed clothes polling around his feet as he cursed, his expression going icy as he reached for the device which had so precipitously woken him from some much needed sleep.

"This is Harris, sit-rep please,"

"Copy, Miss Rosenburg left for patrol in full armour at nineteen hundred hours and has missed the last two check-ins. She is not responding to radio and we have reports of major battle indicators at her last known location."

"Wake the world control," Xander replied, the icy glint in his eyes settling down into something far worse, "if it has legs and can carry a gun I want it in uniform and ready to go."

"Copy."