A/N: Please see Prologue notes for detailed information. Again, I own nothing. :) Thanks to Classic Cowboy and FusionBlaster for beta-reading. As usual, I do not own any established product, literary character, or work of fiction I mention. All feedback is appreciated. :) Enjoy.


"Alright, nothing new on Grid Twelve, let's see ... what's next on my schedule? Antarctic recon photos." Audrey Silver quickly typed a series of commands into her console, eager, for once, to lose herself in her work. She was even pleased that it was Monday – amazing how much one's view of the world could change in two days.

But the arrival of Monday meant the weekend was over, and as much as she was loathe to admit it, she was glad to have an excuse to get out of the house and immerse her mind in something besides her daughter's mental state. Ha. That's rich. You just reminded yourself of it again, didn't you? She paused in her typing and leaned forward with her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers in front of her face. It didn't matter what Daniel said, it was still her fault, really. She had seen no problem in allowing X into their home as a friend, trusting him with her child's safety, or (and here was the really stupid part, she knew) allowing her daughter to become emotionally attached to a professional killer. It wasn't that she chose to ignore the fact that he was dangerous. No, it was impossible to know anything about Commander X and not know that he was one of the most dangerous men alive.

When he wanted to be.

That was it, she decided, that's what made me trust him. There was a reason people gave X nicknames like the The Blue Bomber, or in the case of his more eclectic fans, the Avenging Angel. He was a force of good certainly, but to stand against him in battle meant facing a man who desired nothing more than absolute victory, no matter what it took. For the most part, emotion took a back seat to calculating logic, and one was left facing a frightening embodiment of determination and justice. The X that sat with her daughter watching Disney movies and playing with dolls for hours was the same man, and that's where the paradox came in. How could someone be so jovial and sweet in one environment, and so positively terrifyingly deadly in another? And more to the point, which side of personality is more authentic?

She smiled thinly. That was an easy question to answer. They were both the same, one simply a more complete version of the same whole. X's field persona, from what little she had seen of it, was in essence a stripped down, utilitarian version of himself. X's whole personality was too kind, far too friendly and forgiving to be anything but a hindrance on the battlefield. So it made sense he learned to suppress those elements of himself when necessary. That left a core of determination, logic, and a devotion to justice that few could match. He had made it a point that Angie not see that darker part of his psyche, she had only experienced the smiling, sweet young man, never the unyielding soldier. Beyond that, she figured it was something he did on purpose to keep himself sane, to keep himself from being completely lost in his work.

But I wonder ... did you realize you were going to die, or was it so sudden you didn't have time to think about it? Somehow, I can't imagine that. I don't see how anyone could have ever really gotten the jump on you. And if you did know, were you afraid? Did you let yourself feel any emotion, or did you die in that hardened shell of yours? Either way, it's just not fair, is it? Whatever Maverick scum that managed to take you down, X, I hope you sent them to Hell on the way out. Whatever monster could kill you doesn't deserve to live.

Someone knocked on her office door. "Come in."

A few moments later, Alia was standing in her door frame. "Hi. Do you have a minute? There's something I need to talk to you about." She looked uncomfortable.

Audrey quickly abandoned her current task. "Of course. Sit down, please." As the reploid moved, the analyst quickly absorbed the details of her appearance, and had to admit she didn't really like what she saw. She was expecting Alia to be taking X's death hard, but that hadn't quite prepared her for the change in her friend's appearance. She hadn't realized reploids were designed with the ability to look so exhausted. Alia's hair seemed to hang limply over her face, lacking any bounce, and was more than a little frazzled. It was obvious she had not put the normal amount of time in preparing it. Somehow her deep blue eyes, in spite of the fact that they were simply highly-sensitive photoelectric scanning nodes, betrayed fatigue and a slightly lost look Audrey chose not to concentrate on. There were times, she decided, when a reploid's eyes could express just as much honest emotion as a human's – simulation never came into the equation.

Alia shifted in her chair and seemed to look more uncomfortable than before. At last she ventured, "I'm not trying to pry at all, but I wanted to check ... I was wondering ... how's Angie doing? I know X was supposed to watch her for you on Friday. She must know by now."

Audrey smiled, just a little. She couldn't help but think it was nice of Alia to take time to check on her daughter, when she obviously had enough problems of her own. "Its nice of you to ask, dear. I ... I think she'll be fine. We had it rough on Friday, though. She was watching television when those bastards broke in with their leaked video. She didn't understand. None of them had the decency to say anything about him being dead; just that he'd been deactivated or – and this is the closest they got – destroyed. She didn't understand why they couldn't fix him at first. It's funny, I guess. She was young enough to think of him as a living person, you know, just like a human ... but she knew he was an android," she paused, looking a little uncomfortable with her choice of words, "a machine. She knows that most of the time, when machines break, they can be fixed. No offense intended, of course. She's too little to understand that all of you are ... more complicated than that. Once she figured out he wasn't coming back, she was horrified. It didn't help, you know, that in school they teach them X and Zero fought off entire Uprisings themselves. They're taught to think of them as unstoppable. Innocent illusions aren't meant to be shattered like that." She looked at Alia. She hadn't meant to say that much.

"No," Alia said sadly, "they aren't." A thought seemed to occur to her. "She's just sad then? Not ... afraid?"

Audrey signed. "I'm not sure. Maybe a little. I think she's still too sad to have thought about it enough to be really worried. Like I said, in school they're taught about X and Zero, what they did during the First Uprising, and how important they continue to be. Nothing too detailed, given their age, but enough. I think she wonders, you know, what could hurt him like that. What kind of evil thing can kill a superhero? I think that's her biggest question, and for the life of me, I have no idea how to answer it. But is she going around terrified? Thankfully, no."

Alia nodded, getting the hint. Audrey was just like everyone else, she knew. She wanted answers. "You know I can't tell you what happened. Those bastards classified everything." She spat the second sentence with enough venom to make Audrey flinch.

"Alia, I –"

"But, tell Angie there's nothing to be scared of. Tell her ... tell her X took care of it, and the thing that killed him won't hurt anyone ever again. That's the truth – as much of it as I'm allowed to tell, anyway ... for now." Audrey nodded slowly, not sure she liked the implications of Alia's last statement. "But ... that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." The uncomfortable look returned to her face. "We ... we read the will over the weekend. That's ... what I need to talk to you about."

That caught her off guard. What would X's will have to do with me? "Oh. I see. I'll admit, I'm a little confused."

Alia smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I could probably be doing a better job of explaining this. X ... was giving Angie piano lessons, right? He mentioned it in his letter."

Audrey raised an eyebrow. "Yeah ..."

"He gave us specific instructions for distributing most of his things. His keyboard synthesizer ... he asked us to see if you would like Angie to have it."

Audrey blinked a few times, not really sure if she'd heard right. She knew what Alia was talking about. X had brought it along every once in a while so she could practice on it. Some of its more eclectic features were greatly adept at entertaining six year olds, and kept her interested during some of the more difficult lessons. More often, though, she saw it when she dropped in on a social gathering in the Seventeenth's common room. X's piano prowess was of great use during the assault unit's impromptu karaoke sessions. He gladly played, in exchange for no one hassling him to attempt to sing. Her hands trembled slightly with some unidentifiable emotion. "He ... he left that ... for her?"

Alia nodded. "His specific instructions were to see if you wanted her to have it. He didn't want to force it on her, or you. He knew how much she liked it and ... uh ..." she hesitated to add the part about X's opinion of their piano's lifespan, but Audrey did it for her.

"Knew that ours is about to fall apart at the seams?"

"Well ... he didn't say that." The spotter shifted some more. Not exactly, at any rate.

Audrey found her voice again, mentally scolding herself for seemingly making Alia more uncomfortable. "Alia, dear, I'm not trying to sound ungrateful at all. Honestly, I'm beyond touched. I'm just ... just a little surprised, I guess. I never expected that he would put Angie in his will, for anything. I hate to say it, but I'm not sure I understand why. He only knew her less than a year."

Alia shrugged. "I'm the last person qualified to guess his reasons for writing what he wrote, but from what I've seen, it never seemed to take him very long to get attached to anyone he really liked. He said in his letter that he wanted to leave each of his friends something." Alia smiled. "The three of you were some of his few human friends. You trusted him with your daughter, even though he was arguably one of the most capable killers on the planet. You knew he was more than that, and that meant more to him than you realized."

Audrey wasn't quite sure what to say, but found words coming out of her mouth anyway. "I honestly never thought about it like that. I mean, X is ... was ... just a man. All this," she waved her hand in a short gesture, indicating the whole of Hunter Headquarters, "this is just where he worked. It's not what he was."

Alia smiled, but it appeared strained. "And you wonder why he liked you. So ... about the synthesizer, you certainly don't have to decide now. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable about the whole thing – he said so in his letter. Take as much time as you need."

Audrey didn't say anything for a moment, then smiled reassuringly at the spotter. "I certainly don't feel uncomfortable, Alia. I don't think Angie will either. It's unexpected, but I'm proud that he thought of her so highly. Let me talk to her this afternoon, and I'll let you know."

Alia smiled, looking profoundly relieved. "Alright. I should be going. I've got some work to do in Command. See you around, Audrey."


"It's too damned weird."

Beth stirred, lifting her head off Quinn's shoulder. "What?" The two of them had been sitting alone in the Seventeenth's common room for well over an hour, looking at wedding planning publications and listening to the news. "You would look great in a tuxedo. We can get a coat long enough to cover up your tail."

Quinn chuckled. "No, it's not that. I like this one. It looks like something James Bond would wear."

Beth's lips quirked. "I'm not sure attempting to model your appearance after a 150 year old fictitious, promiscuous sex symbol is the best thing to be doing when we're attempting to plan a wedding."

Quinn stuck his tongue out. "Hey ... you like it too. That's not what's bothering me. I just had a thought." A decidedly dark look settled over his face.

"Well, you look like you just sat in something. I'm assuming this isn't about the clothes?"

He shook his head. "No. Where's Sigma?"

"Well, that certainly doesn't have anything to do with the wedding, unless somebody insane got a hold of the guest list. What do you mean, where's Sigma?"

"It's too odd. He would have known for sure X was dead just as soon as it went out on the wire. It's Monday ... and not a single Maverick incident. Hell, not even any reports of the normal petty vandalism for the last few days. He's up to something."

"Obviously. Intelligence hasn't heard anything?"

"If the reports I'm getting are right, not a thing. It's almost like Sigma's put out the word to the Maverick community ... even the thugs that aren't necessarily under his direct command are running in stealth mode. Like he put out the word for everybody ... and I mean everybody ... to shut up and lay low. But it doesn't feel like he has anything planned. It seems like he's just ... waiting. It's bugging the crap out of me. What's he waiting on?"

Beth frowned. "He should know he's got a big opportunity here. He's not going to screw it up if he can help it. And that means he's not going move until he's ready ... until he understands the playing field again."

The animaloid looked down at the younger reploid. "Wait ... you mean, you think this caught him off guard too? But that can't be possible – unless he and his scum had nothing to do with it. But how could that work?"

Beth closed the book and put it on a coffee table. "I don't know. It just ... it was so abrupt. X was shopping, for God's sake. I just don't buy the fact that Sigma just happened to have something waiting in New York that X couldn't handle. And that whole not being able to send help thing ... there's something way wrong with that. You know how hard it is to make an area unsuitable for beam-in. No ... whatever happened, there's no way I think the bald bastard had a hand in any of it. It seemed too random. Sigma's nothing if not a good planner. Granted his plans usually fall through in the end, but they're very well defined. This whole mess just doesn't feel like him. Does that make any sense?"

"Too much. It brings us back to the obvious question. What the hell happened, and why is the whole thing Level Alpha classified? What are they hiding from us?"

"I don't know Quinn. But honestly, lately, when I look at Alia's eyes, I'm not entirely sure I want to find out what happened. She and Zero ... they both look so haunted. But she looks alone."

Quinn leaned back in his seat. "You know what it is, don't you? She realizes ... well, I'm not sure if she'd admitted to herself yet ... but part of her knows she'll never have any closure when it comes to her relationship with X."

Beth sighed. "It's so unfair. How much longer do you think it would have taken for them ... you know ... to start seeing each other? It seemed like it was so close."

A frown accompanied his answer. "Closer than you might think. I overheard him on the phone the other day checking on prices for two tickets to ... something. Not sure what."

Beth paled slightly. "You have got to be kidding me. He was just about to – this whole damn thing is just – shit. I guess it makes sense, though, in some bizarre, twisted way."

"What do you mean?"

"He was the best. He defied the odds for two decades, and had no trouble making the impossible seem possible on a daily basis. Everything has to crash down eventually. And the way X was, all the things he was capable of, all the things he did ... when he hit the wall, he had to hit it hard, I guess."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Quinn asked after a little bit of silence. "The way one person's death has completely screwed everything up. We've lost people before, but it's never felt like this."

Beth nodded again. "True, but how often have we lost a legend?"

"That's the whole problem, isn't it? Through no fault of his own, he became a symbol. Symbols just aren't supposed to up and die."

Beth was silent for a moment, then she spoke, having thought up another question. "How much longer do you think it'll go on? The Wars ... all of this? When's it going to stop? I always sort of figured X would be around until the end ... until we didn't need him anymore. Now he's gone, and I don't know what'll happen. ... It's all changed, now."

"It hasn't all changed, honey. We're still here. Sigma's still out there. X is gone, but the Mavericks remain. That means, for the moment, so do we. But until the Bald Baron shows up, we're stuck waiting. Now," he picked up another magazine, "how about we discuss something else ... like the food for our human guests?"

After a moment, Beth drew herself up and said, in an entirely artificial and high voice, "Let them eat cake."

Quinn hit her with a nearby pillow.


A few hours later, Quinn stepped into Training Room Three. Oddly, all the lights in the room were dead. The door shut behind him, sealing him within the darkness. Oh, this is real comfortable. "Zero, where the hell are you?" He didn't wait for an answer; instead activating his infrared. Zero was leaning against the wall, watching him.

"Hi." His face was troubled. Not sadness, not dread – no, Quinn decided, more than anything else, he just looked extremely ticked off.

"Uh ... Zero ... is there a reason you sent me an e-mail asking me to meet you here without telling anyone, or is this just your latest attempt to scare the hell out of me?"

Zero smiled thinly. "Sorry ... I needed to make sure Alia didn't get wind of this."

"Oh? What's the problem?"

"You mean, aside from the fact that the universe is continually rubbing X's death in my face? Tomorrow's Tuesday."

Quinn didn't get it. "Tuesday?"

Zero chuckled – a tired, mirthless sound. "Damn, man. You're more frayed than me. What's been on our social calendar for the past three weeks? Give you a hint – this latest little kick in the pants brought to you by the number eight."

Something clicked. Alia's birthday. Surprise party. Surprise party X was supposed to be planning. "Oh, damn it. I completely forgot. Someone up there is really enjoying jerking us around, aren't they?"

"Up there? I disagree. Seems like we're dealing with a rather subterranean force, if you get my drift. But back to the matter at hand. We need to decide what we're going to do. I'm not sure if we should call it off or not."

"Zero," Quinn went through the motion of cracking his knuckles, though the nature of his unchanging, perfectly tuned body kept them from making any sound, "is it even still a surprise anymore? I heard her telling Beth about some of the stuff she found in X's database. Wouldn't she have found something there? I know she's not at her best, but she's still Alia. She's still one of the most thorough people I know."

"Right. I went through X's database over the weekend. I took out all references to Alia's birthday. Digitized receipt records from a couple of party stores, the cake company – yes, there's a cake waiting to be picked up, along with a ton of balloons, and a margarita machine he rented, among other things. He didn't tell you about any of this?"

Quinn shrugged. "Not a thing. All we knew was that he was taking care of the plans. He probably would have clued us in more, but Onyx bet him he couldn't pull it off without help. Said he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret that long. You can imagine where that got us." Zero actually sounded amused when he chuckled. Quinn was thankful for that. "Wait a minute. Margarita machine? X doesn't drink."

Zero gestured aimlessly with one of his hands. "I know. Knowing him, he probably had them rig it to dispense iced fruit punch or something. Did I mention the gallons of peanut butter cup ice-cream I found in his freezer? Alia loves peanut butter cups. He can't ... er ... couldn't stand the things."

The animaloid scowled mightily. "Oh yeah ... we're on a short leash."

"Here's the deal. We can still pick everything up, and the time he had planned to start things still works. The question is, should we go through with it? I honestly don't know, Quinn. I don't know if it'll just make her worse, or if she might actually enjoy it. I'd like to think I'm pretty good at keeping myself sane, but I have no business trying to keep other people from snapping."

"Then why should you?"

Zero raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What's the big plan here, Zero? Forget the fact that for whatever reason, you still can't tell us what's going on. That's not important right now. How we got here is important, and one day I hope to understand how this happened, but for right now, it's not the critical thing. The critical thing is, how do we get moving again? Are we going to just stand around and hope it all goes away? 'Cause, you and I both know that's not going to get us anywhere. The party is just the beginning of it. X's life didn't come to a natural end. He wasn't done yet. I guarantee you we'll run into a few more loose ends before this is over. How we deal with them is going to define how hard this is for us.

"Alia's birthday is tomorrow, and we have a party planned. Now, it might not be the most jubilant experience, but we can either attempt it and hope for some degree of normalcy, or we can do nothing. I'd like to think X would like it if we went for the former. I know I would."

Zero smirked. "Very nicely put, Commander. We go then?"

Quinn's lips quirked up. "Let's shall."

"Alright. Spread the word. I'll be sending you a list of things I need you to pick up."

"Sure thing."


Tuesday, the fifth of December.

0500 hours.

My birthday.

Yay.

Those decidedly unenthusiastic thoughts were the first that filled Alia's head when she opened her eyes on Tuesday morning. Her groggy gaze swept over the far wall of her bedroom, catching the three bookshelves worth of collectible stuffed bears – nearly a hundred of them. There were fat ones, tall ones, big ones, small ones. As usual, they all seemed to be smiling at her. That's why she'd put them there, so a flock of friendly, furry faces would be the first thing she saw whenever she woke up.

She frowned and sat up, stumbling out of bed with far less grace than any healthy member of her species should have shown. She wasn't in the mood for happy, smiling faces. Straightening up, she ran a hand through her hair, wondering for an instant why synthetic follicles were designed to fuzz and go completely out of control overnight. There was realistic design, then there was just Doctor Light getting carried away. She stood and tugged the wrinkles out of the giant white t-shirt she was wearing, more out of habit than anything else. She knew it didn't matter what the shirt looked like – it wasn't like she would be wearing it much longer.

With that thought in mind, the newly eight year old Lieutenant Commander closed on her bathroom door, shedding her bedclothes as she went. Normally, she would have dumped them in the bin in her closet, but tidiness was the last thing on her mind.

A few minutes later, with her shower spigot putting out water hot enough to burn human skin (the most soothing kind, in her opinion), she stepped into the tile enclosure; steam enveloping her form. She felt her body relax as she found the shampoo bottle. Most humans wouldn't have believed the servo motors and micro-hydraulic systems that gave reploids could entertain a state of of undesired tension. It wasn't muscle stiffness – that was something they didn't have to deal with – it was just a tight, uncomfortable feeling that had more to do with the way she held her body when she was stressed than anything else. Either way, she smiled thinly as the scalding water pelted her back – she could feel the knot between her shoulder blades wither and die from its onslaught.

Briefly, as she fumbled for the rinse-out conditioner, she wondered what the day would be like. She couldn't think anything too unexpected would happen, given the current atmosphere. Probably nothing big; a few well-wishers here and there. That's fine, really. I don't feel much like celebrating. Her mind was on the subject, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking, I wonder what's in that box, though. What did he find that had to be bought on another continent. The fact that he put a lot of thought into ... whatever it was ... wasn't lost on her, nor were the implicit implications she could choose to draw. She made up her mind, then and there. The small parcel was still on her night table, where it had been since Friday. She was going to open it as soon as she got dressed. That's what I really want to do, isn't it? Otherwise, I would have thrown it away. And there's no way I'm doing that.

"Ouch! Damn it, that burns!" She began rubbing furiously at her eye – she had gotten distracted by her thoughts and rubbed some of the conditioner across her face. "What do they put in this stuff?" After another few minutes of rinsing, she reached for the soap.


Fifteen minutes later, Alia sat still on her bed, in her usual light-duty armor. A conspicuously yellow bandanna was wrapped around her neck, tied off in a careful knot. Her hair was fixed in it's usual style (for whatever reason, she'd actually deemed its preparation worthy of her time – perhaps it had something to do with her birthday; she wasn't sure). It shined silkily under the artificial lighting pods in her ceiling, still damp. Her eyes were locked on her night table, and the cubic parcel sitting on it. It was wrapped in thin brown wax paper, and tied off with thin rope. Steeling herself, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands.

The part of her brain that was nothing more than a miniature supercomputer stepped in for the initial assessment. A small readout on her HUD told her whatever it was she was holding was exactly 10.5 ounces, including the weight of the packing materials. It didn't make a hard sound when she shook it – probably wrapped in something soft. But that didn't really get her very far. Here we go. Steeling herself, she slipped a finger between the box and the string and tugged. The cord snapped and fell into her lap. She ignored it, instead focusing on her hands. They were shaking. "Ugh," she sounded disgusted with herself, "what's wrong with me? What am I afraid of?" Helplessness, a small, cold voice called from the back of her mind – her subconscious, scolding her again. She frowned. Maybe ... but I'll be damned if I become a slave to my emotions. I need to do this. Just throwing it away because of some irrational fear, that wouldn't be right. With that thought, she worked a finger under a seam in the brown wrapping, and tore.

The brown paper fell away easily, and she got her first good look at the box. It was blue, with a removable top like a shoebox, old and worn, but not moldy or dirty. The only writing was the silver lettering on the front: Steiff. She made no conscious assumptions about the contents, even though part of her already suspected what it was. Slowly – hesitantly – she sat the box in her lap and pulled the top off.

The first thing she could tell was that it – whatever it was, was smiling at her. It's little brown resin eyes were beaming up at her from the shadowy confines of its container, and the fuzzy little stubs that served as its arms were stretching up in her direction, as if asking to be picked up. Alia was glad she wasn't holding the box – she was sure she would have dropped it then and there. She couldn't help the thought that popped into her head – Look how cute you are. She felt moisture on her eyelids. In a smooth, slow gesture, she scooped the little bear carefully out, sitting it up in the palm of her hand, lost in its charcoal black fur. From the looks of it, it was antique Steiff, very old, but in excellent condition. With her other hand, she fished out the folded certificate of authenticity, but her eyes didn't leave the stuffed toy. It was such a happy looking little thing. All at once, she could see X picking it out from somewhere, with that pleased, eager look on his face he wore when he was looking forward to something. She had been lucky enough to see it on his face a few times, and she liked the memory. The twenty-six years of stress, worry, hardship, the faint haunted look you could sometimes see if you looked at his eyes long enough – it all melted away, and he looked so happy and sweet. All the sudden, she was filled with a horrible, unquenchable desire – she wanted to see that face again, just one more time, but she knew she never would.

Then, abrupt as the snapping of a twig, it all came loose. All the self control, all the mental blockades, everything shattered, and she began to cry as she'd never cried before.

The bear smiled on.


Zero woke up to the sound of his door chime. It was dark. "Computer ... lights on." 0530 ... would have been up in fifteen minutes anyway. I wonder who it is. He swung his feet over the side of his bed and stood up, looking at himself in the full-length mirror next to his closet. Baggy red pajama pants ... fine. Need a shirt. He moved quickly to the closet, somehow managing to avoid every piece of stray dirty clothing on the carpet – which was considerably impressive, seeing as there was arguably more clothing than floor. He reached in and snagged a black tank top that was almost too small, and pulled it over his head, shaking out his tangled, untied hair in the process. He left the room, making a point to shut the door behind him. He didn't need to be called a pig this early in the morning.

A moment later, he was opening his door, still wondering who had found a reason to wake him up. What he found waiting on the other side couldn't have surprised him more.

Alia was standing there, holding a small box in a pair of gloved, trembling hands. Her face was damp and blotchy. When she spoke, her voice was small and tired. It couldn't be hoarse – her vocal system didn't allow for any such distortion, as an exhaustible voice was simply not useful in any way, shape or form. "Hi."

Zero didn't need X's people skills to deduce what had happened. The box in her hands was open. Fallout. He started to speak, but was cut off.

"I ... didn't mean to wake you." She was unable to stifle a sniffle. "I ... I needed to talk to someone, Zero. Can I come in?"

The Crimson Hunter blinked, realizing for the first time that he was just standing there. "Sure ... come on, come on in. Sorry. Do you want to sit down?"

"Sure," she said quietly. He stepped to the side, and she entered his living room, advancing on his couch. She swept a few motorcycle magazines out of the way and dropped onto a leather cushion. She was still holding the open box in her hand, and try as he might, Zero couldn't see inside it without making a far more obvious effort. He followed and sat on the opposite end of the couch. Okay, Zero ... now what? He had been expecting this in some form or another since Friday, but he wasn't sure what to do now that it was happening. Start simple. "Alia, what happened? You look like you've been crying for a while." He couldn't help but think that had sounded incredibly obvious and non-helpful, but it was out, so there was little he could about it.

Alia didn't say anything at first. She wordlessly leaned towards Zero, the hand with the box outstretched. "Look inside. Be careful with it." The last sentence had come out quickly, in an unmistakably warning tone. Nevertheless, Alia continued to tremble periodically, aftershocks of her earlier sobbing fit.

Zero carefully but quickly lifted the box top off, his eyes instantly finding the little charcoal bear, taking in its little smile and its tan muzzle. It was undeniably cute – even he would admit that – and he could imagine X picking it out for precisely that reason – he loved that kind of stuff. He was also sure it had some sort of collectible value. The way X had talked about his acquisition, it was as though he'd stumbled on some rare antique. Knowing him, that's probably exactly what this is. ... Okay. Need to speak again. He looked at Alia. She was studying the wall; no help there. "Alia," he began again, handing the box back to her, "I hate to say it, but maybe opening it wasn't such a good idea," he said quietly. In the back of his mind, he was already considering calling off the party. Maybe it really wasn't a good idea. The remainder of his conversation with her would dictate his decision.

Alia jerked her head around to look at him, still moist eyes wide with what was apparently shock. "Are you serious?" she spat, not really offended so much as surprised, "Zero, you know I wasn't just going to throw it away. That wouldn't be right. And I'll admit," she averted her eyes again, "there was a part of me that really, really wanted to know what it was."

"And," Zero found himself asking experimentally, "did you like what you found?"

Alia's hand went to her face to wipe away a few errant tears – she didn't seem to mind being seen crying at all anymore. Either that, or she was too exhausted to care. More interesting than that, Zero noticed, she was letting it go on. "Did I like the bear? I love it, Zero. I think it's one of the cutest little things I've ever seen. It's really old too. One-hundred-and-fifty years; I checked the certificate of authenticity. He would have had to make an effort to find it. When I opened it, I was sitting there," her voice broke slightly, but she pushed on, "on my bed, and I took the top off the box, and before I pulled it out, I could see it smiling at me. I couldn't help it, Zero. I imagined him smiling – it just popped in my head. I could see how he would have looked standing there while I opened it, and I knew I'd never get to –" she slumped back in her seat, and dropped the box carefully in her lap. "It's not fair, Zero. It's just not fair." Her sentence was punctuated with a few new sobs she made no effort to hide, despite her mind's urgings to do so. No. I'm not running from this anymore. I can't. This is how I feel. It needs to hurt me now, so it won't hurt me later. That's how it's supposed to work, right?

"Alia –" Zero began carefully, not completely sure what he was supposed to say. It didn't matter; she cut him off, obviously not in a mood to stop talking yet. Zero couldn't know that she feared if she stopped now, she wouldn't be able to finish.

"You know why it's not fair, though? I'm sure it sounds pretty immature of me to word it like that, but it's the truth. And I did it to myself. I ... I screwed up." More tiny, tired sobs. "I still don't understand how I could have been so stupid." Her shoulders trembled.

Zero was dumbstruck. This was so far off from what he expected, he wasn't sure what to do. The crying, shaking blond girl on his couch was ... blaming herself for X's death? He didn't get it. She knew better than that. No ... I'm missing something here. "Alia," he began again, still unusually quiet and careful, "what are you talking about? None of this is your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing you could have done differently to –"

"No! That's not what I meant. It's not about that damned maniac ... or how helpless he made me feel. I hate feeling helpless, Zero. I hate it more than anything. But that's not it."

If anything, Zero was more confused. "What then?"

"I ... I'll just spit it out. You've probably figured out by now, hell, I was the last one to admit it ... I ... I liked X very much."

Zero suppressed the urge to say "I know," nodding slowly instead. "Go on, when you're ready."

"I can't say when I started to. It seems like one day, I just worked with him and he was my friend, and the next I was looking at him, thinking how sweet he looked when he was happy, and finding that I really enjoyed being around him when we weren't trying to keep someone or something from getting blown to atoms. But I didn't do anything about it. I was afraid. I'm not one of those girls that won't ask a guy out unless somebody's pulling a Sadie Hawkins event. But I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure how to approach him. He seemed a bit emotionally guarded. I didn't want to come on too strong.

"I convinced myself I had plenty of time to decide what to do, and when to do it, you know?" She smiled sardonically. "'After all,' I told myself, 'this is X. He's not going anywhere.' The one time I make a major assumption, it just has to come back to haunt me. I ... I just waited too long."

"Alia, I don't get it. You're so confident. X could be withdrawn sometimes, but he wasn't unapproachable. What were you afraid of? You know he'd never have shot you down. But, please, please don't think you screwed up. Sometimes," he got a far off look in his eyes, "sometimes, things just don't go right. He felt bad asking, but he knew that if he was going to be of any help, he had to understand.

"I know, Zero. I wasn't afraid of him rejecting me hard, not really. I even managed to put aside the fact that he would spend most of his time getting shot at by homicidal maniacs, and if we were together, I'd still be working here, and I'd have to put all my feelings aside. But I was afraid ... and I feel so stupid admitting this. I was afraid he would always see me as some weak little thing that needed to be protected – not even necessarily on purpose. I know it's not true, but it was so easy to get bogged down that way. Like I said, I don't like it when people think I'm helpless. That's what I was afraid of." Her shoulders quaked again. "I squandered any opportunity I might have had, Zero. I wasted it, because I was afraid, and because I was ashamed."

Zero found himself scooting towards her. He didn't understand what she meant by "ashamed," but didn't press it. Damning the implications (as far as he was concerned, there were none), he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It sagged under his palm. "Alia, it's perfectly normal to be nervous and apprehensive about impending relationships. When you're not sure if you might love somebody or not, it's hard to understand what you're supposed to do."

Alia looked up. "'Might love somebody?' Do you think I'm in love with a dead man?"

Zero flinched. "I ... I don't know."

She chuckled darkly – a completely mirthless sound. "And that's the horrible part, Zero. I don't know either. I can't say I wasn't, and I can't say I am. It's somewhere in between. A big, glaring maybe. And damn it," her voice lowered, "that's all it'll ever be."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Zero said suddenly, not really having anything else constructive at his disposal.

"Don't I? Did he ever tell you how we met?"

Zero shook his head, surprised that X actually hadn't mentioned it. Ever.

"Care to hear a pathetic little story?" Her voice was downright bitter. Zero frowned.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Remember, eight months before the Fifth Uprising, when that mercenary strike force managed to breach our security and tried to blow the command center to hell? I remember there were fifty of them, and they caught us off guard. That was my first day here. That's the day I met X ..."


Alia knew she had to move. The little voice in her brain that amounted to android instinct told her as much: if she stayed where she was, she would die. She locked eyes with the crazed, black armored maniac pointing the automatic rifle at her, and rolled. The trainee badge rattled on the chain around her neck as she pulled herself hastily behind the ruined hulk of a computer console, and she was aware of a stinging sensation on the side of her neck. She brushed a gloved hand against the spot – it came away dark reddish black. She understood what had happened without really thinking about it. There had been a series of loud bangs over the past few seconds, then a stinging sensation as something whizzed by her ear. It was an almost unconscious realization. I've been shot. It was the first time (and hopefully the last), but she didn't have time to think about it.

But her wound – the most minor of grazing injuries – was the least of her concerns. She glanced at the lightly-armored human laying next to her, a boy no older than twenty with a horrible, gaping hole in his chest. One of his arms was missing below the elbow, and he didn't seem to know where he was. Her fully trained escort with the Hunter Spotter Corps. She could hear the five Mavericks taunting them now. They weren't firing, even though they were in a perfect position to vaporize the two of them. And why should they, she thought, her mind remarkably free of fear (though shock was slowly setting in), they've got us trapped. They can do whatever they want. She found herself mentally going over the events of the last two minutes as she picked up the boy's broken, useless sidearm with shaking hands.

Everything was going so well. All her belongings were sent in advance to her new quarters with the Seventeenth Unit. She had just gotten out of Non-Field Hunter Orientation (All six solid hours of it.) and finished up with the Hunter Registrar Office. Now she was supposed to be on a quick tour of the gargantuan Hunter Command compound. The two of them (his name was Nick, she suddenly remembered), had gotten so far as the Transportation Hub when it happened – a series of quick explosions, screaming in the distance, sirens – then hell itself seemed to burst into the room.

Yet it was not Lucifer who charged into Equipment Teleporter Room One, only five Maverick reploids. They were of various builds, all humanoid, all with the same heavy black armor. Two were armed with busters; two carried heavy duty assault rifles of a make and model she didn't recognize, and the fifth seemed to be wielding some sort of energized club. But that was all she had time to deduce in the split second before they started firing.

The next thing she knew, there was a bright red glob of something (plasma, a distant part of her mind reminded her) zooming off to her left, then a man's voice screaming next to her. She looked over and saw the small human form of her tour guide, bloody and short one limb. In typical Maverick fashion, they had turned their weapons on the only human in the area before doing anything else. He had been standing behind a teleporter control console, which was fortunate, in a grisly sort of way. It absorbed the brunt of the blast, and probably kept his upper torso from vaporizing. At that moment, one of the riflemen seemed to take notice of Alia, and trained his weapon on the stunned trainee. It was at some point during that long millisecond that her common sense kicked in, and she started to move.

And so, here she was, huddling behind a burned out console the size of a small car with a human who would, from all indications, be dead in a matter of minutes, listening to a quintet of murderous men taunting her. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be terrified to the point of total and complete shock, but she wasn't. Complete loss of mental control, over anything, simply wasn't in her nature. Despite that, she knew she was in trouble. Keeping her head low, she inched towards her companion. "Nick," she said quietly, urgently, "can you hear me?" All she got in response was a cross between a groan and a wheeze. At least he's not dead. Damn. One of the Mavericks shouted something quite lewd at her, and she felt herself shudder involuntarily. Wonderful, she thought sharply, sounds like they have a pervert in their little band. Alright. I need a plan.

"Alia..." Nick had apparently found his voice, though it was thin and tinny, and sounded as though it might break any second. "How many of the bastards are there?" His head rolled over, in an apparent attempt to see their assailants but all he found was his arm. "Oh," he said quietly, "oh, damn."

"Does it hurt badly?"

"No ... plasma sealed the nerves, it looked like. Soft of a dull stinging. I think a few of my ribs cracked. I can't feel anything ... below my waist. Oh, shit. Bastards probably nailed my spine. But you didn't answer my question ... how many are there? I'm betting you and your reploid optics got a better look at them than I did." There was the barest note of encroaching panic in his voice.

Alia didn't need to look, and when she spoke, her voice was steady. "Five. All heavily armored and armed. What should we do?" She was slightly unsure about asking a man who was possibly in shock for orders, but he seemed lucid enough, and he was the only fully trained Hunter in the room.

The human looked disgustedly at Alia's hands, eying his ruined machine pistol. "They're between us and the only exit from this room. I'm afraid you're going to have to fight your way out and find help. They busted my damned radio, so unless somebody finds us, we're on our own. I'm guessing whatever could breach security's keeping everybody pretty busy. It's either fight or sit here and wait for them to kill us. Listen to them. They know they have us cornered." He looked at her wrists. "I notice you're not carrying anything. Please tell me you have at least one plasma cannon."

For an instant, she actually looked embarrassed. "I'm supposed to be getting one installed Tuesday. I hate to say it, but my specifications are decidedly non-combat oriented."

"Great." Next to him, Alia frowned. His voice was becoming increasingly wet. She didn't need any medical training to recognize the signs of serious internal bleeding.

"I can't leave you here," she said harshly, rank forgotten. "They'll kill you."

"And you can't move me either. You need to get past them, and get help. Listen ... they're getting tired of pointing and leering. See the little silver disc on my belt? Grab it." She did as she was told. "That's a sonic overload disc. It's the latest in non-lethal anti-reploid weaponry. Press the button and it'll emit a tone that'll short out all of your audio systems. It hurts like hell, from what I understand, and prologued exposure can force you into auto-stasis, but it should throw them off balance. I want you to press the button, cover your ears, and run as fast as you can. Just to save time, that's an order."

Alia was only now beginning to feel the slightest tingle of panic. She was being asked to outmaneuver and outrun several men who wanted, at best, to kill her in an extremely painful and bloody fashion. At worst – no, she wasn't going to consider the at worst. Even if she made it, she would be condemning a defenseless human to certain death. But Nick was right. She knew she wouldn't survive if she tried to fight. One well-aimed plasma shot would be enough to eat completely through her light armor, and that would be the end of it. She flipped the disc between her fingers. But I really don't have any other choice, do I? He's right. If I stay here, we'll both die. If I move, one of us might live. And, she thought with more than a little bit of darkness, I'll be damned if I let myself get killed before the end of my first day. Here we go ...

With those dark thoughts running through her mind, Alia rose to one knee, still crouching, and prepared to run. The entire exchange with Nick had taken barely more than two minutes. She could feel her hands shaking, but ignored them. She slid her finger over the disc's activation button, and started to press – the starting shot in her private, all but suicidal race. But at that moment, something unexpected happened, and the rules of the game changed.

Alia heard a small explosion and felt the ground under her shake ever so slightly. Nick muttered something next to her, apparently having lapsed into semi-unconsciousness again. She looked up in time to see the head of the Maverick with the energized club disappear into a hole in the floor that simply wasn't there a few seconds earlier. Her eyes widened slightly. The four remaining Maverick soldiers were looking at the hole dubiously, listening to the sounds of an apparent scuffle, Alia and the human forgotten. After a few more seconds, there was only silence, and then, in a flash of blue, there was him.

He was standing over the hole he'd just made, feet spread out on either side, arms hanging at his sides. Blackish-red circulatory fluid trickled from a cut on his temple. His blue armor was in perfect condition except for a few singes here and there, and a single, seeping crack across his left breast. The man's emerald eyes shined with an icy intensity from his nearly emotionless face, seemingly staring at everything at nothing all at once. Alia felt a chilly mixture of awe, anxiety, and wonder race through her body. That's ... that's Commander X. That's him ... For an instant, their eyes locked, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of something warm and reassuring, but it was gone before she could be sure what exactly it was.

X raised his right arm, and Alia realized for the first time that there was an active, charged buster on the end of it. She wanted to duck, but found herself frozen to the spot. When he spoke, his voice was far softer and calmer than she had anticipated, but it held a confident, dangerous edge. "You don't belong here." He fired.

The Maverick nearest Alia let out a horrible scream as he was engulfed by two blue fireballs. He began to fall to the ground, almost completely limp, but even before his knees touched the floor, X was in motion. He was nothing more than a blur as he charged forward, grabbing the falling mercenary by the neck and, with little more than zero effort, throwing him into the riflemen's line of fire. For it was at that exact moment that the two reploids, trembling in fear, had leveled their weapons on him, preparing to shoot. Neither was able to stop in time, and their eyes widened in terror. The bullets flew, tearing what was left of the barely conscious Maverick to shreds. The body was mere inches away from then when one of the rounds pierced its generator. There was an explosion, and both crumpled to the ground, broken and bleeding. They never moved again.

X turned to face his fifth (and final) opponent, careful to place himself between the Maverick and the two people behind him. He let his buster, once again frothing with deadly blue plasma, hang limply at his side. The mercenary, for his part, looked certifiably terrified. His own arm cannon was pointing at X, though it wasn't charged at all, and he couldn't seem to keep it from shaking. "I would suggest you surrender," X said finally, his tone of voice no different than it had been when he arrived, "power down your weapons and drop into stasis, and I won't hurt you. But you've got to do it right now."

For an instant, it looked as though the black-armored humanoid was actually considering it. Slowly, his trembling buster began to lower, and by the time it was level with his hip, it was gone, replaced with a red-gloved hand. "I," he began, voice even higher in tone than X's, "I will ..." Suddenly, his purple eyes flashed bright red, and a demonic smile lit his face. "... kill you, Hunter!" he yelled, producing a silver cylinder from a compartment somewhere on his leg.

Alia's eyes widened. She had expected to see the Maverick kneel to the ground and enter stasis – he looked perfectly ready to surrender. But she wasn't naïve by any means; the idea of a double-cross wasn't really that surprising. No, she recognized the silver object. That's a beam saber. She found her mouth moving without her consent. "Look out!"

But it seemed she was too late. The Maverick, eyes still giving off that eerie, blood red glow, screamed and swung his saber high, activating it in mid-air. A blade of purple energy sprang from its output node, arcing sharply as it closed in on X's neck. For a terrifying instant, the blue armored Hunter didn't move.

Alia's eyes were riveted on the scene, waiting for the inevitable. The sword cut through the air, and then ... nothing. X's head, indeed, his entire upper body, seemed to have disappeared. She realized what had happened at the moment he sprang up from his crouch and delivered an uppercut to his opponent's jaw. There was a sickeningly wet cracking sound, a splash of something dark red, and the Maverick began to stumble backwards. Small, shiny white things (Teeth, she realized with a bit of a start) flew into the air, just as their owner started to tumble. But X wasn't through. His left hand closed over one of his opponent's flailing wrists, and he twisted sharply, careful to point the purple blade away from him even as his armor was showered with harmless sparks. When the silver cylinder fell from the maniac's hand, inactive, X kicked it, sending it flying across the room. His foot completed its arc, slamming into the mercenary's armored chest and sending him flying backwards.

It was then that Alia noticed the ambient noise in the room change. She realized almost instantly what it was – the high-pitched tone coming from X's buster was changing, becoming sharper – and louder. When he again leveled it on his rising opponent (who happened to be growling in blind, irrational fury), the plasma was tinged with bright purple highlights. He let the canon rest in the palm of his other hand, in obvious anticipation of the impending kickback. Level three charge, she thought, unable to keep from cringing. Part of her wondered why she still couldn't manage to look away. She was still watching when the lone Maverick made it to his feet; still watching when X fired.

The bluish-purple ball of plasma that flew from his cannon was bigger than anything Alia had yet seen him produce. It flew into the charging Maverick – and straight through him. There was a small explosion, and a few seconds later, a pair of legs attached to a smoking wreck of a lower abdomen clattered to the floor. That was all that remained of the fifth and final soldier of Sigma.

At this point, X still had his back to Alia. His legs were spread, and he still held his buster in front of him, supporting it with his left hand. It occurred to her suddenly that every enemy unit in the room was now dead, yet she felt no less anxious. She heard him mutter something, but much to her surprise, she couldn't make it out. His arms dropped to his sides again, and he deactivated his buster as he turned around.

The person she found looking at her now was nothing like the one she had seen mere minutes before. Gone were the cold, icy irises and the expressionless face. No, the warm, reassuring green eyes she had seen briefly before were back, and this time they did not disappear after a few spare moments. His face was serene, lacking any traces of ferocity, or – and this surprised her once she got a better look at the deep gash on his temple – pain. He made eye-contact with her and started to walk towards them.

Alia knew, in that one moment, that she had nothing to fear from X. The ice-cold glare of destruction he had worn into the room wasn't meant for her, or Nick, or anyone else who wasn't an agent of Sigma's malice. He looks totally different now, she thought, but it's not like he's another person ... it's like there's more of him now. How strange ...

And then, he was kneeling in front of her, with the faintest of smiles on his face. His eyes flicked to her trainee badge, obviously looking for her name. Alia felt his hand touch her shoulder. "Are you alright, Alia?" he asked quickly. She nodded, reflexively turning her head to the side. She gasped, flinching before she could stop herself. The hand on her shoulder was covered in a white glove, but she only knew that because she had seen pictures of the legendary Hunter in some of the newer history books. At the moment, there wasn't a single centimeter of the corrosive-resistant garment that wasn't stained dark red with blood. The fabric around his knuckles was torn, and the skin over a couple of them appeared split. It was obvious that the saber-wielding Maverick's jaw wasn't the only thing he'd been forced to smash since the attack on the compound began.

X traced her gaze and pulled his hand away quickly, wearing what under any other circumstance Alia would have been sure was an embarrassed frown. "Sorry about that," he said softly. His gaze turned to her fallen escort. He was still only barely conscious. His frown deepened. "Nicky? Oh boy. Has he talked at all since he went down?" he asked urgently.

"A little, on and off, sir." Alia said quietly. I can't believe I did that, she scolded herself, but there wasn't anything she could do about it right now. "I ... I don't think we can move him. He said he can't feel his legs anymore."

Alia didn't think it was possible, but X's frown managed to deepen. "Alright. That complicates things a little." When he spoke again, it was obvious he wasn't speaking to her, but rather to someone on the communication net. "Sparky? This is X. I found them in ETR One. Nicky's down, looks like a spinal injury and limb amputation, along with some internal bleeding. No, I'm afraid I'm not kidding. Can you get a medical team down here?" He paused, listening. His facial expression didn't change. "Understood. I'll be expecting them in five minutes, then. Find Quinn. I want him to meet me here as soon as possible. I just took down five. How many hostiles are still on the grounds?" He furled his brow at something Alia couldn't hear. "Thirty? I would just love to know how they managed to get past the teleport scrambler. Stay frosty. Out." He turned to Alia. "Sparky says he can have a gurney team here in five minutes. Quinn – he's the Seventeenth's Lieutenant Commander – is going to meet them here and escort the two of you to the Infirmary. You'll be safe there until we sort this out. In the meantime, we need to try to stem the bleeding. There should be some tarp around here somewhere." X swept the room with his eyes, stopping when his gaze fell on a supply cabinet. "There." He got up quickly and moved swiftly across the room, returning after a few moments with a thick blue piece of fabric the size of a small tablecloth. He began ripping it into strips hastily, and handed one to her. "Wrap it into a ball – yeah, that's great – and press it over the wound – good. If it starts to get saturated, switch it out." He sighed. "Hopefully, if we're lucky, he's not bleeding out that fast."

"What about his arm?" Alia asked, trying not to focus on the grisly wound she was pressing her hands on, or how squishy and sticky it was. She had never seen a severely wounded human before, and she hoped she never would again.

"I'm afraid we can't do much about that right now. The plasma cauterized it, though, so it's really the least of his problems. It'll be seen early enough that it's very likely he'll be able to be fitted with a prosthetic. Now, we've just got to wait. Oh, and by the way," he added, smiling thinly, "please call me X. That whole 'sir' thing makes me feel old and far more important than I actually am."

Alia didn't rightly understand why the side of her mouth was quirking up. But she knew she felt a lot safer than she had only minutes before. There was even some irrational part of her that, if only for a second, was sure Nick wouldn't die, because X didn't want him to. That was the nature of his presence. "Okay."

"So," X said, readjusting his piece of tarp, "this is your first day, isn't it? I was told Nick was in this area with someone on the orientation tour. When he didn't check in, I decided to come have a look."

"It is. I'm in the Spotter Training Program. I've been told I'm likely going to be attached to the Seventeenth, actually."

X's smile was sardonic now. "Really? Welcome aboard. Just in case you were wondering, this is not a hazing ritual." He leaned down and put his ear to Nick's nose. "Not good. He's breathing slower now. They need to hurry up." X threw the now saturated piece of tarp to the side and grabbed another. "Badly," he added softly.

"Commander?" The voice was faint. X looked down. Nick was awake again, staring at the the Blue Bomber with clouded brown eyes. It was obvious that he couldn't see very well; he was blinking furiously in an attempt to focus. "What's going on? There were Mavericks ... sent Alia running ... wasn't sure ... if she would make it ..." He coughed, and blood dribbled down the side of his jaw.

X shot a questioning glance at the spotter-in-training. She held up the sonic overload disc, and he nodded in understanding, though she was certain he looked relieved that she hadn't tried to use it. His attention returned to the fallen human. "She's fine, Nicky. The Mavericks in this area have been ... dealt with. Everything's under control. We've got some medics coming to get you." He found the boy's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Everything's going to be fine, alright? I just need you to try to keep your eyes open for me. You've got to try to stay awake, but it would be better if you didn't talk." he finished calmly.

"You know," Nick managed, either ignoring or not hearing X's last comment, "my mother's gonna kill me, if I survive this. She was totally freaked when I told her I wanted to be a Hunter. I managed to convince her that spotting was a safe, non-combat position. She wanted me to be a lawyer ... I'm cold ... I don't want to go ..." His voice trailed off.

"Nicky. You are not going to die, do you hear me?" X's voice was still soft, but its tone was a good deal more commanding than it had been moments before. Alia was surprised by the abruptness of the change. She could just make out a very slight, almost desperate undertone. "You're going to be fine," he continued, draping what was left of the tarp over his body. "You didn't survive those bastards just so you could bleed out on the floor of an equipment teleporter room. We're going to get you patched up, and then your mother can yell at you. Deal?"

Nicky blinked again. "Okay ..."

X blinked, and the worry in his eyes was quite visible to Alia now. Do you think he'll make it? she mouthed.

I hope, his lips moved, but there was no sound.

Suddenly, Alia found herself remembering the way the last Maverick's eyes had changed before he charged. "What happened to him?" she said quietly, before she could stop herself.

"The Maverick with the saber?" X's voice was neutral now; soft and calm. Alia realized she liked it like that.

"Yeah. He looked so ready to surrender, and then he was just ... just ... enraged."

Sadness flickered in X's eyes. "He was ready," he said oddly, "the Maverick Virus in his systems, on the other hand ..." he trailed off.

Alia gawked, feeling a new type of horror suddenly wash over her. "That was the Virus? I've studied it for years – before I came here, I was in research. We studied the Virus in the lab, but never ... never on a live subject. I never imagined ..." Her skin was tinged slightly green now; she had every appearance of a human who was about to be violently sick. "How could he do that to them?"

"Sigma?" The sad look in X's eyes intensified for a moment. "He has no problem stripping people of their souls, since he doesn't have one himself. He lost it a long time ago."


"And we just waited there for another few minutes, both of us too busy trying to keep him from completely bleeding out to actually talk about very much else. When the medics showed up, they immobilized Nick, hooked him up to a portable infuser and an IV line, and put him on a gurney. Then they were whisking him down an empty hall, working on him as they went." She chuckled darkly. "One of them was human. She had a Scottish accent. I learned more about the correct use of Scottish profanity in those ten seconds than you can imagine.

"Then Quinn was there. I decided the two of them had a thing for dramatic entrances – he blasted through the ceiling with all of those claws of his out and charged, with his teeth barred, every bit the image of an enraged jungle cat – at first I thought he was another Maverick, and I half expected X to jump him. Of course, when he realized X had already killed all of them, he got really friendly, really fast. X ordered him to take me to the Infirmary and keep an eye on Nick, then he smiled at me and told me I'd see him later, owing to the fact that 'if I don't show up there when this is over, Lifesaver will come gunning for me.' Then he disappeared back through the hole he made in the floor, already charging one of his busters again. And that concluded my first meeting with X," she finished quietly. "Within another twenty minutes, the compound was cleared and things were getting back to normal, but I'm sure you remember all that."

So that's why Nicky's in a wheelchair. "Yeah, I do. I ended up stuck in a firefight in the armory that lasted nearly thirty minutes. Those were some persistent bastards." Zero braced himself for what he was about to do. "But, Alia, out of everything you just told me, you didn't do anything worth being ashamed of. Hell, you were ready to run weaponless and practically armorless into a throng of armed mercenaries. That makes you pretty damned brave, if you ask me. I know a couple of Commanders that would have cowered behind that burnt out computer and and waited for death." Indeed, when he spoke, his voice carried a new, impressed undertone.

"It's not that. And I know you're right, now. I didn't do anything worth being ashamed of, but that's not how I saw it then."

"I don't understand."

"It's not even that he had to save me. Like I said, I don't like to be helpless, but I know my limits. You're right. I probably would have been killed if X didn't show up. I didn't have EAS thrusters then, either." She tapped the heels of her boots together. "Something else I chose to have installed afterward. That's not the point. I couldn't believe I'd managed to hurt him."

Zero blinked. "What?"

"When he touched me. He was just trying to reassure me, and I saw his hand, and I couldn't help it – it looked so painful – and I jerked away like he was some repulsive ... thing," she spat the last sentence like some sort of bile. "And the look in his eyes. It was embarrassment, and something I still haven't been able to identify. I couldn't imagine what kind of impression I must have left with him. I must have looked damned superficial." Her voice was very small now.

"Alia," Zero said reasonably, "you know X better than that now. You know he wouldn't have formed everlasting opinions about you based on that one meeting. And he knew how bad he could look after he got finished with an operation. If you'd never seen that before, there's no reason you shouldn't have found it unsettling." He looked away and frowned, remembering the way Iris had looked at him after he'd returned from a mission with his armor all-but drenched in other people's blood. "It's normal."

"I know that," she said miserably. "I've always known. And I know the relationship we had wasn't based solely on that first meeting, because I swore it to myself it wouldn't be. I promised myself he'd never see me slip up again. Of course, once the act really got going, and I started to like him, I had a little problem."

Zero nodded, finally feeling like he was starting to understand a bit of what was going on in his friend's head. "Go on."

"I was afraid he'd think I was repulsed because of what he did. Dumb, I know. I'd be an idiot if I was grossed out by my personal knight in shining armor. The logical part of me knew how stupid I was being, so I didn't ever dare mention it to him – which was probably, in the long run, more stupid. So I just sat on it, because I was too nervous about what he really thought of me. He wasn't a good liar, but he made up for it by being evasive as hell when he wanted to be."

"Alia ..." Zero began tentatively, but she went on, reminding him he had practically zero control over the conversation.

"So when I started to like him ... At first, I didn't know what to do. I mean, even without that stupid little voice in my head that loved to tell me he probably thought I was some kind of superficial bimbo – I'd actually managed to get over it after I got to talk with him regularly and knew he respected me – it was still X, and you're not supposed to just be able to wake up one day and ask a superhero out on a date without some sort of mental reservations." She laughed derisively at herself. "So, we were already friends at that point, and I decided I could work with that for a little longer, until I figured out what I was going to do. I mean," and her tone was suddenly acidic, "I had all the time in the world, right? No one can kill Mega Man X, right?"

She began to rub her temple absently before continuing. She had stopped sobbing long ago, but her eyes remained moist. "Lately, though, it seemed like we were getting a little bit closer. We had been spending more time together outside operational activity – which was nice, considering operational activity was mostly me listening to him getting shot at by crazed maniacs. Our relationship was changing. We weren't necessarily getting any closer romantically, but we were suddenly more comfortable around each other. It was certainly easier to talk to him about ... almost anything. I liked the change in our relationship, and I didn't want to jinx it, so I was perfectly happy to sit on my hands for a while longer. I was more than happy. I was comfortable with him, and that was nice." She sighed. "Too nice. I got worried about losing that if any attempts to advance our relationship didn't work out, so I settled on a hands off approach. I was just going to sit back and see what happened. If it went anywhere, it wouldn't be because of my prodding; it would be a natural progression." She frowned. "As it turns out, nature moves too slowly. I missed my chance, because I was afraid of trashing the relationship we already had. Sounds like something out of some teen drama hour, doesn't it? I must sound like some sort of babbling idiot. So, now I ... I don't know what to do."

"Alia," Zero began after it was clear she was done talking for a while, "all you can do is go on. You and I, we're not dead yet. Both of us are still stuck on this miserable planet, and unless something drastic happens, I doubt either of us will be leaving it anytime soon. The most important thing for you to remember – and the best thing I can tell you – you're not the first person who feels like they missed an opportunity with someone special because they were too slow, and you won't be the last. You didn't do anything wrong. Motivation aside, you did what you thought was right. You could have done nothing different." Neither of us did. His look was distant now, but Alia didn't catch the change.

"Maybe. But I look at Quinn and Beth, and they're so happy, and I wonder – what did they do different? Or ... was it simply that they were meant to work, and we weren't even meant to have the chance? No, don't look at me like that. I'm not jealous of them. I'm glad they found each other ... they're cute, and sweet, and they're a wonderful couple – though I could really do without Beth dropping bizarre hints about their sex life. There are some things I'd just rather not contemplate. Sure, I did what I thought was right. But was it? And if there's really such a thing as fate that can either work for you or against you, did it even matter?"

"That's all irrelevant," Zero said after a moment of silence. "You can't think about it like that. You'll just feel worse. You're stuck in the now. You can't agonize about the before. I've done that. It doesn't work," he added so softly that Alia almost couldn't hear him.

Alia looked at him, confusion plainly visible on her face. "What?"

"Let's just say you're not the only Hunter in this room who's been a victim of bad timing and personal confusion." His voice was faintly bitter now. "If it makes you feel any better, you're a lot more together now than I was then."

"Zero, I didn't mean to –" she started quickly, tone apologetic and more than a little confused.

"It's alright. You aren't rubbing salt in any open wounds." More like tapping old scars. But if this is my only way I can make you feel better, then here we go. "What do you know about the Repliforce War?"

"... Everything that's in the standard history database files." And suddenly, the conversation was Zero's again.

The dark look on Zero's face was unidentifiable. "You'll remember Colonel then, though I'm afraid his sister isn't mentioned very much. Our relationship was something ... something I'll never forget." And then, he was doing something he'd only done once before – telling another living soul everything about his relationship with Iris. He wasn't sure if it would help her, but he wasn't X, and it was the best, most personal thing within his power to do.


When Alia was walking back to her quarters twelve hours later at the end of her evening shift, her mood and thoughts were far removed from their earlier state. He hides it well, she thought darkly. I'd have never have guessed. At least it makes sense now, why he doesn't date. She laughed soundlessly at herself. Was that why you told me, Zero? To shock me so much that I'd stop thinking about my own problems? Well, that might not have happened, but I got the message.

And that was true. She had come away from their meeting feeling far less isolated, and she hated to admit it, but knowing about Zero's relationship with Iris made her feel much less stupid. It wasn't that she considered herself to have handled things better than him; she was amazed that he'd managed to pull himself together as quickly as he did, though she was sure X had something to do with it. He was never one to let people sulk. At least, she thought, I didn't have to kill him. Small blessings.

It was simply that she didn't feel alone anymore. Those other people who were victimized by time and circumstance weren't simply theoretical – she knew one, and somehow that helped. And above that, Zero had listened. It wasn't like talking to X might have been, but she was far more comfortable with the Crimson Hunter than she would have been with anyone else still living. Everything she had held inside since Friday was out now. None of it was really gone, but she wasn't trying to pretend it didn't exist anymore. Indeed, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders – and wrapped around her waist. It was all still there, but far easier to carry. The world was spinning again, maybe not as fast as it was supposed to, but that was something she could work on.

When she stepped into the Seventeenth's common area, she found it surprisingly dark and unusually deserted. If she had been at her best, she might not have been completely scared out of her wits when the lights flared to life and every member of Unit Seventeen, Unit Zero, and the entire senior staff flooded into the room from the second level with a rousing yell of "Surprise!" Indeed, she probably would have been able to keep herself from jumping half a foot into the air. At the very least (and she patted herself soundly on the back for this later) she caught herself before she dropped into a defensive crouch and activated her weapon systems.

She took in the room. There were a few dozen colored balloons tied to the second floor railing. A silver and gold "Happy Birthday" foil banner hung on the far wall, slightly lopsided. A folding table was set up near the arch that led to the main hallway, covered in plastic cups, paper plates, and what looked suspiciously like a purple and black margarita machine. A cooler was directly underneath the pastel monstrosity, open and filled to the brim with various kind of sodas. Someone, in a supreme act of insanity, had hung a spinning, golden disco ball from the ceiling that seemed to be emitting Barry White tunes. She was fairly certain she could smell cake, but she couldn't figure out where it was.

It took her a full three seconds to come up with a reaction to what was in front of her eyes. There was, of course, shock – they had managed to completely surprise her, and from the well organized look of things, this had been planned for a while. A part of her knew, without a doubt, that they had help from someone who was no longer with them. In fact, she was willing to bet that X had planned pretty much everything, and Zero had simply executed those plans. It explained why there were certain areas of X's database where it looked like someone had edited the recent entries. All the decorations – it all looked like something he would have assembled. She felt a tinge of sadness at the realization, but she didn't let it show, and she didn't let it bog her down. She had made herself a new promise, sitting in Zero's apartment. She had promised herself she was going to deal with her grief and refused, then and there, to ever let pride, doubt, or any other useless emotion freeze her mind. She was better than that, and it wouldn't be easy, but she would get past this, no matter what it took. And oftentimes, the hardest part was the first step...

She looked at them all, standing there. Some of them were beaming at her, like Beth. Others were trying to, but looked slightly nervous, waiting for her to react, like Onyx and Signas. Zero's smile was reassuring and just a little bit cocky, just like it was supposed to be. She would have never guessed he was the same person who sat in his quarters with her and cried, telling her about his one and only lost love. Almost everybody else just looked amazed and relieved that they'd pulled it off. Alia felt something she hadn't felt in days: she was happy. Not ecstatic, and maybe not as thrilled as she might have been if X were still among them, but simply happy.

So it was that, five full seconds after everyone yelled their greeting, Alia pulled her hands away from her face, careful to wipe the lone tear of quiet joy off her cheek before anyone could see it, and she smiled at them. The gesture was supremely difficult and insanely easy all at the same time, and it felt as if it were something she hadn't done in days. And maybe it was – this was certainly the first time it had meant anything to her since Friday. X had made her promise, before he walked away from her forever, not to let everything fall apart after he was gone. She was part of that everything, and she would keep her promise, even if it was one of the hardest things she would ever do.