Disclaimer: Ain't mine. The ones that are mine you are free to dissect and sacrifice according to your pagan wills. ; ) I don't own "My Friends Over You" by New Found Glory, either.

A/N: I really wanted to sneak this chapter in between vacations, if you were wondering (which you probably weren't). But I'll be gone again next week.

Chapter Eight

The first conscious sensation was pain, dull and throbbing down the left side. 'At least I'm still alive,' Alec thought the moment he was completely coherent. Eyes still closed, he ran a quick health check: legs were fine, arms seemed to be in good condition. His head was fully intact and clear as could be given that he was obviously on some heavy pain-killers, leaving him a bit groggy and disoriented. The chest though, left a lot to be desired in terms of ease. Alec grimaced. Even shallow breathing did little to alleviate the impression that a bulldozer opted to park on his upper torso and scrape over his heart while he had slept. He opened his eyes slowly, fighting the waves of nausea. When the swirling ceiling kept pulling at him, he closed his eyes in defeat.

He was forgetting something, something important. Then all collided with amazing clarity. His eyes snapped open, forgetting the swirling ceiling and swells of nausea. "Max," Alec mumbled, sounding small and weak and vulnerable to himself, not to mention the lizardman sitting in a folding chair next to him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he grumbled good-naturedly, closing - could it be? - a book. Judging by the slightly guilty look on Mole's face, it was probably some trashy romance novel he'd confiscated from Gem. Reading materials - besides Dix's scrolls and texts - were amazingly scarce. "You might need a tour, given your little coffee break," he added, bordering on civility, a sign of tenderness when considering the source. Catching his gentleness, Mole returned to his standard callous tone. "Don't think I'm here to mother hen you like Joshua, though. The guy was on the verge of collapse after tending to you for so long without sleep. He ain't got the shark DNA, you know. Dix and Luke wanted someone with you at all times and I got stuck with the short straw."

"How long have I been out?" Alec rasped, fully taking in his surroundings. He was back in Terminal City, their makeshift hospital ward to be precise. Light drifted in through a nearby window, half-blocked by an Oriental rug turned into a shade. Given the givens, the low rays permitted to filter through the crude window shade brought immense comfort to Alec, grimacing in remembrance of the dark tunnels he'd passed through recently and the bleakly lit end of them.

Despite the strain on the taut and inflamed muscles on his chest, Alec turned his head towards Mole, instead of merely glancing at him out of the corner of his sleep-crusted eyes. Reading the questions so plainly written on the X5's face - so plainly afraid to ask -, the other man's eyes darkened with ill-omened emotion, his jaw clamping firmly around his puffing cigar.



"You've been out for five days, drifting in and out of consciousness. This is the first time you've been lucid enough to talk."

"Five days?" Alec asked incredulously. Mole nodded, allowing a grin to tweak at the corners of his mouth. Manticore soldiers don't 'drift in and out of consciousness' for five whole days, and Mole knew it galled the younger man. Taking pity, he decided to soothe the bruised pride bred in him - Manticore would deny "pride's" existence even while honing it for its own purposes. Superior pride had been generated very well in Alec, and it had taken a bit of a blow.

"You took a decent shot to the chest trying to save Max's life, Alec, not to mention the Red Sea you left when we had to drag your sorry butt back here. For a few moments, we weren't sure if you were gonna live." Mole replied sternly, out of masked concern. He saw that his tone had been misinterpreted. Alec's face fell as the word 'trying' set in.

Although he'd hardly moved a muscle, Alec could feel himself - his soul, if he had one - collapse back onto his bed, the hope shot down. 'Trying to save Max's life.' He shut his eyes against the words. They'd failed. Max was dead. He choked back a small sob, his heart flaring in physical pain of suppressed moans and breaking on an emotional level at the same time. Mole must have subconsciously slipped into the commander's role, using that same uncaring tone 494 had heard so many times when he was informed of a comrade's death. He heard the same inflection that had been branded into him since childhood. So many times had he'd been told, "He/She is dead, 494. Report back to your exercises. Dismissed."

Alec felt a distinct tightening in his chest, a ball forming of dangerous emotions, overshadowing the heartbreak: anger, rebellion, and distrust. It simply couldn't be. Alec may not really believe in God or Fate or Destiny, but he knew that he didn't secretly slave for her for over a year, track her down twice, take that bullet for her, just to lose her like this. "No," he said, sounding and feeling stronger than any other moment in his life.

Mole understood exactly what Alec wasn't saying. "No, she's not dead. She was conscious, although she seemed more like the waking dead all the way back here," he stopped suddenly, unsure of himself. He didn't want to feed Alec false hopes: it wasn't until Doc gave the X5 the 'all clear' that Max's subconscious finally stopped fighting the inevitable and surrendered her defeated body to nothingness. Mole couldn't find good ground between false confidence and pessimism, so he settled for the blunt truth. Two shots point blank to Alec's chest: "She slipped into a coma. It doesn't look like she's going to come out."

*****

A few weeks later, the lean X5 wandered the perimeter of Terminal City aimlessly, kicking a stray pop can like a sullen six year-old. Hands nestled warmly in his dark jean pockets, head and shoulders sagging under their leather jacket in near defeat, Alec looked anything but the resilient one-man-military Manticore had trained him to be. He sighed again, the strain on his still healing chest - physically and emotionally - bringing a fresh round of tears to taunt his eyelids. The X5 fought them back angrily, just like he seemed to be doing for weeks. The last time he let himself become vulnerable enough for tears was during the Rachel episode. To cry would be to admit defeat. Max wasn't dead, not yet.

'Rachel wasn't dead the last time you saw her, either,' one of his inner voices taunted him. 'How much longer did she last after that?'

Alec's only response was a swift kick to the innocent pop can, sending it through the wire fence with the skill of a kicker putting a football through the goal post. The clatter of aluminum scratching against pavement fell on deaf ears, him being so determined to push those nagging and damaging thoughts aside.



'Maybe that's why I've avoided her so much.' Alec shrugged to himself, it seemed valid. He'd figured he'd avoided Max because he always wanted to remember her as...Max. The girl that could persuade him into working an Eyes Only gig without even trying - not that she'd ever ask. The same chick who's presence was both so unchanging in its strength and passion yet unpredictable in its path that it seemed to knock Alec against the lockers of Jam Pony and strong arm him towards her at the same time. Not to mention those tiny fists that could put any heavyweight boxer to shame.

He figured that since he'd had to keep himself working like a slave since he'd stepped off his hospital bed in an attempt to outrun her memory, Alec would never forget her. But if he'd have to remember Max - which he would - he'd much rather recall the Max he'd always known, not the hollow shell of a life lying on some mismatched hospital bed with a broken down monitor grimly measuring every heartbeat. It would be too much like seeing Rachel all over again. It made his throat close and heart crash to his toes just to think about seeing Max's strength reduced to a life no better than a vegetable's.

'Seeing Rachel that last time brought pain, but it also brought peace,' the nicer of the two inner voices chimed in with annoying logic. 'You made peace with Rachel.'

'No you didn't.'

'Some peace is better than none.'



'She didn't hear you.'

'You made some peace with yourself, which can be just as important.'

Alec kept on strolling down the fence, letting his fingers strum against the metal links while his inner voices duked it out. The X5's mind tore off on a new detour. 'Maybe that's why I'm avoiding her so much,' he thought again, remembering his inner voice's first taunt. 'I'm afraid of causing Max's death too.' It was childish to say the least, entirely brainless and off-track at its worst; but the simple words held a small ring of truth.

He was still indecisive on which inner voice to listen to. Did he cause Rachel's death by that last visit or not? Was he the jinx Max had always claimed him to be or not? Should he visit her? Alec needed to make a decision fast and run with it, holding no regrets. If Max was going to die, she might not have too much longer. He should visit her.

'But the pain. Oh God, the pain.'

Alec stopped and glanced at the sky in a mixture of desperate pleading and irritable commanding. "I could use a sign. You and I both know I don't like to believe in You, but a sign of some sort would be nice."

"I don't know if that's the way He works, but it's worth a try," a masculine voice chimed next to him. Surprised and annoyed at being so easily caught off-guard by a presence he should have sensed, Alec jumped back with a strangled curse, falling into a defensive fighting stance. The Sector cop on the other side of the fence quirked his head while taking in the Manticorian's reaction, like a scientist with his lab rat placed in a new stimulus. The X5 had been glazed over and assessed in such away for too long, his resentment at the other man's behavior reflected in his glower.

Catching his mistake, the Sector cop smiled in a way that was both friendly and apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. "It's just that you guys are so fascinating and I've never seen anyone react so quickly before."

Alec gave the Sector cop a sarcastic bow, harboring his innate distrust for any and all authorities - particularly with those whose pockets were lined by the government. And those who were taller than him. "I'm so glad I could entertain you. Perhaps I should just go grab some friends now and you can watch us do back flips and handstands so we can give you a real freak show production. You'll have to give them a few minutes to stretch out though, and some of our best performers are a little people-shy," Alec replied darkly, not bothering to hide the animosity clawing at his throat in haste to be released on the cop.

Surprisingly enough, the words - nor the threat thinly veiled behind them - didn't even seem to graze the policeman's thick skull. He wasn't even close to intimidated by the killing machine not two feet from him, more than ready and able to tear through the wire fence and his throat. Instead, his eyes raked over Alec's six-foot frame, not in a degrading way, but with the unmistakable air of respect and admiration.

"We weren't properly introduced the other night," the cop said, slipping his hand through the fence. Alec jumped back at the man's boldness, unsure if stupidity or bravery spurned him. Probably both. "My name's Keith," he said. "You held me and my partner up a few weeks ago before doing your flying squirrel impression over the fence."

Alec's eyes flickered in recognition before glancing down at the still outstretched palm. "Alec," he said simply, grabbing the hand firmly. They grasped palm to palm for a moment before the cop tugged his hand back over the fence - shaking was out of the question with the wire fence wrapping around Keith's forearm like a handcuff.

Formalities aside, Keith got down to business. He exhaled softly before stepping even closer to the fence, the wire diamonds pressing into his uniform. "I don't have much time, my partner's just down the street," he whispered almost conspiratorially. "I just saw you and I had to know if...if she's all right."

"She?" Alec repeated dumbly.

"Your girlfriend." Keith whispered, glancing down the block to make sure his nervous and trigger-happy partner didn't see him and misinterpret his little interlude with the X5 as an assault on Alec's part.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Alec said emotionlessly, trying to hide his confusion. He was a strong believer in first impressions and for some odd reason didn't want this policeman, this Keith, to see him as an idiot. A blank front would be better.

Obviously, he gave the wrong response. The policeman blanched to the point where Alec almost feared for the seven-foot man's consciousness.

"Oh, God. She died. I'm so sorry to bring it up." Keith - despite the media's depiction of transgenics as ferocious and emotionless killers, or perhaps because of it - barely restrained the urge to reach through the fence again and grasp the younger man's shoulder in an attempt to offer masculine comfort.

"Who died?" Alec asked, aggravated at being left in the dark. He was supposed to be the smarter one in the conversation here, and he was completely lost.

"The brunette."

Alec jerked. His head snapped up, eyes flashing with dark emotion. "How do you know about her?" he asked calmly, forcing his heart to slow.

"I saw her when your friends tried to sneak you and her back in to Terminal City."

"She's not dead," Alec responded his eyes now mirroring suspicion. "How did you know we were sneaking back in?"

Keith's face flushed in embarrassment. "I saw you." Judging by Keith's nervous fidgeting, Alec guessed he did more than see them. He had helped somehow. "Thank you," Alec whispered, the words wringing with surprising sincerity. Keith nodded, his face holding no pride or mockery, just a sense of duty.

"She's alive. In a coma, but alive. For now." A small silence fell across the duo. "What made you think she was my girlfriend?" he asked, studying his shoes to make sure Keith couldn't see the level of his curiosity.

"The way she looked at you." Alec's head snapped up, the same dark emotion swimming across his eyes again. "Yeah," Keith continued. "From across the way, I thought she was dead. But when I got closer, I saw her eyes. They seemed blank and lifeless, but I could see this tiny...spark. When her eyes rolled, I thought they would just go to the back of her head and she was going to die before my eyes, but she didn't. They would move slightly and stop. Move again, stop. It took me a moment to realize that they were following you."

There was no way Keith could know the impact of his words. Alec faintly shook with the collision, his fingers tightening around the fence to brace himself. Seeing his partner down the street, the policeman barely managed out a farewell before scuffling towards the nervous man. Still clawing the fence for support, the X5 gasped and let out a smile tears before wiping it away. One eyebrow raised sardonically, he glanced towards the ominous sky.

It would seem he had his sign after all.

*****

'It's going to be a long day,' Doc thought dismally, his sigh sounding more like a panther's purr. The tail sprouting out the back of his jeans swung from side to side slowly, sluggish in its own depression. Stepping away from the heart monitor, he neared his patient's bed. The physical scars were fading quickly from her limbs and upper torso. But it was her face that disturbed the medic so greatly, growing more ashen and still every day. It was as if the fire of Max's inner torch was dying out, being replaced by death's frost. Checking Max's vitals one more time, he rubbed her dark head in light, sympathetic motions before taking a quick break and relaxing into a chair next to her bed.

Doc took in the room, remembering another lifetime. Despite his furry, feline appearance and the resulting questions of his ability to stay sanitary, he'd shown a very high aptitude for medicine when he was still just a cub. His genius and skill had bought him his superiors' approval for becoming a medic, although he was a very well rounded soldier.

Doc looked at the sterile walls and floor, fairly proud of the spotlessness. Amazingly enough, he didn't really do blood, not outside its right environment anyway. It could be handled in a proper context, all over his sterile floor or a worktable, where it could be cleaned and disinfected easily and quickly and everything could return to normalcy before the next patient came in. Field med, though, had always made him queasy, blood staining grass and sand didn't settle well. It wasn't natural in his mind's eye.

Neither was having Max in a hospital ward for so long.

Growing up working on doomed anomalies and soldiers, the panther transgen had never really struggled with death. The hospital room was his home, and with it came losses. But this girl was evicting him from his home just by her diminished presence. He glanced down at the young woman again, heart tightening as his cool eyes watched her chest rise and fall steadily under the sheet. Death was slowly trying to steal her away; he could sense it the way he always did before losing a patient.

For four weeks she'd been trapped in this coma; a good, solid month. Her seemingly endless sleep was both a blessing and a curse: it was giving her body time to heal but slowly letting it die in one fell swoop. While the Doc had grown up where death and life met at their intersection constantly, watching Max wait patiently for her "walk" signal made his innards tighten. He didn't want her crossing that street yet. If not for her, then for Ray. And for Alec.

He took her limp hand into his paw, his excessive body hair a fur coat against her skin. "You've got to come back for him," he whispered. Even if by some miracle Max could hear him, she wouldn't know who he was referring to anymore than the man himself did. Maybe both of them.



He shouldn't be here. Max was his only patient at the moment, but there were bound to be others who would need his attention. He wasn't particularly close to Max, but he was unusually vexed at the mere thought of leaving her alone. He'd chased Joshua and Mole off an hour ago to give them the break they wouldn't allow themselves to have in their nursing of his two high-profile patients, but now he wished he hadn't. What if she died now? Call it flimsy sentimentality, but Doc had always had a strict rule: no one died alone, conscious or otherwise, if he could stop it.

The small rapping on the open door supplied the pantherman with no little relief, becoming even more grateful when he turned and saw Max's next visitor crossing the threshold into her room. The transgen had a smart reply on the tip of his tongue but bit it back. Although he didn't exactly know why, Doc knew it cost this young man a lot more to take those tiny, vulnerable steps into her room instead of the long strides wearing a track into the floor just outside in his earlier nightly pacing.

Alec leaned against the doorjamb, but the false air of coolness did nothing to hide the fervor of emotions roiling just below the surface from the medic's eyes. "I came to make a sacrifice to the Most High Goddess. She would probably be less likely to curse me and throw it in my face while she was snoozing," the X5 explained with sardonic practicality, looking everywhere else in the room except directly at the said goddess.

Doc sensed a need for a little banter. Waving towards the hallway the X5 had frequented nightly for nearly three weeks, he lightly asked, "And your vigils before?"

With a small bow, Alec touched his right hand to his heart. "Merely making sure my heart was truly repentant of all my sins and failings before entering her chambers." The words were meant to be as sardonic as his first statement but instead traveled across the room with a small, distinctive tinkling of truthfulness, not lost on either party. Gaining a bit more courage, Alec stepped away from the door. He slowly crossed the floor in those tiny, vulnerable steps, acting as if he was still checking out the room when both he and Doc knew that the X5 had had every nook and cranny memorized within five seconds upon entering it. The facade was lost on both of them, but Alec just couldn't give it up. He had to keep up a strong front, at least until the medic left the room.

"How's she doing?" Alec asked, making direct eye contact with Doc to avoid their patient's pale, closed face.

"She's sleeping peacefully, the good and bad news of a coma. At least this way I know I won't have to worry about her trying to leave her sickbed before she's ready," the medic finished dryly, remembering Alec's fight to escape from the prison of his own bed. Mere hours after his first coherent talk with Mole, Doc had discovered the half naked X5 sneaking down the hallways to grab some "reasonable food" instead of the "gruel" he was being fed, or so that had been Alec's excuse. It wasn't until several more "escapes" that Doc had become convinced that either the X5 had a large splash of Harry Houdini in his cocktail, or he was trying to outrun the demons that could corner him lying alone in a bed for days on end. Checking on him one night, the panther doctor guessed it was the latter, if the tense face and small moans disrupting Alec's sleep had been any clue.

The X5's trail of thought seemed to follow the doctor's, first ranging from roguish humor before settling into a more somber pensiveness. Sensing the mood changed, Doc brought the attention back to the more important things at hand. "Her limbs are healing fine, Alec, her chest, back, and face as well. Thanks to Manticore's inventiveness, she'll bear no physical scars in the long run." The X5 nodded grimly, knowing the doubt the doctor wasn't voicing: if she wakes up.

"What I'm worried about is her mind," Doc said slowly, testing the waters. Maybe now wouldn't be the best time to bring up what seemed leaps and bounds ahead of Max's currently comatose state. And yet there were aspects of the future that were so intricately woven into the here and now of her condition.

Obviously Alec saw the connection between future and present too. It would be easier to solve future problems if they started to eliminate the roots of it now. "What specifically are you worried about?" he asked, wanting to catch every word and shut his ears all at once.

"Well, there's the usual problems when it comes to comas: if in fact she does wake up, the emotional turmoil, flashbacks, et cetera..."

The X5 thought he might be able to take the scenarios they were being dealt, but his emotions ruled the other way. "Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Doc?" Alec snapped impatiently.

The pantherman ignored the remark, knowing the X5 was hard-pressed by restrained fear rather than anger. "Not exactly. Alec," he said softly, grabbing the young man's elbow the same way Keith had ached to do earlier. "I've been thinking about this for a while. I don't think she'll wake up. Not necessarily because she can't, but because she won't want to."

Alec's eyes questioned the medic in a heartbreaking mixture of confusion and desperation. "Won't want to?" He stammered. "But what about Ray and Logan and, and..." 'Me,' he finished inwardly.

'She doesn't like you, remember? You wouldn't exactly be a number one incentive for waking up,' one of his inner voices sneered.

Doc shrugged his furry shoulders sadly, knowing he was only sensing a smidgen of the young man's inner turmoil, so blatantly slapped across Alec's face. "Think about it logically," the medic urged, finally rising from his chair and grasping both of the X5's shoulders, as if he could force the reasoning through his fingertips into the young man. "We know White wanted Ray, and you said you heard him holding you over Max's head. She was in enemy territory and under hard questioning for information on her comrades. What were you trained to do in that situation, Alec?"

Realization hit the X5 like a nine-iron golf club upside the head, dizzying him slightly, eyes suddenly not focusing. Feeling the younger man's minute tremors gave Doc a reason to settle Alec in his chair. "We were trained to forget," the medic said, answering his own question at the other transgenic's silence. With a small sound linking a groan and a whimper, Alec shoved his face in his hands, feeling defeated. The other transgen stepped back, sensing he was treading on sensitive ground when it came to soothing masculine grief. Particularly Manticorian, masculine grief. Pacing back and forth before the foot of the bed where Max's too motionless body lay too quietly, the panther transgen continued with his theory, his tail swishing back and forth in subdued excitement. "Max cared..."

"Cares." Alec corrected tersely through the tensed hands that imprinted his face in restrained emotion.

"Sorry, cares too deeply to let anyone hurt any of her own kind. My guess is that she deliberately forgot Ray and you and probably anyone else she cared about, to save them. Max pushed them so far back into her subconscious that now she wouldn't know how to bring you all back, even if she knew what to bring back," he finished quietly, stopping and staring at the woman in question.

"Max might be able to physically wake up, but her frame of mind isn't letting her. Her mind has no reason to live. Her body's healing, but her mind is dying, Alec. I hate to sound trite, but the body can't live without the mind. If something doesn't change..." Head still bowed, Alec's hands shot out, pushing back the conclusion of the statement to Doc's toes and trying to force reality to maintain at least a two foot gap from him at all times.

"Just go," Alec whispered, trying to control his vehemence, his open palms pushing towards the still open door. A window in the hallway cast the sunsets' rays through the room's entrance, swishing across the floor and slipping past Alec's open fingers to scornfully kiss the brown head like some sort of painful crown. From Doc's angle, the X5 transformed from flesh and blood into a phantom, a fallen angel, the rays slipping down his face giving him an ethereal appearance. "Please, just go," he almost inaudibly repeated. The emotions he'd tried so hard to control were slipping through his mask like spies in enemy territory. First a few would come, but soon they'd bring their whole army. The X5 needed the other man to be out of there before that could happen.

Doc almost couldn't resist nodding regally, suddenly feeling like a page before his king, bearing specific orders. Strolling out the door and back to the real world he had forgotten, the panther transgen flicked a button on the doorknob, locking it from the inside. Closing the door behind him, he gently looped a notice over the knob, reading "Do Not Disturb." Whipping out a small permanent marker, he added three distinct words: "Under ANY Conditions." Being too nice a guy - plus the fact that there wasn't enough room on the small card - he didn't bother putting in writing the consequences of disobedience, figuring the thinly veiled threat would be enough to keep any sane transgenic away. It was the running joke in Terminal City that Doc had to play his Jekyl character to its extreme to balance out the Mr. Hyde in him that no one wanted to see; Alec and Max's time together wouldn't be disturbed.

Still facing the door, he felt two distinct individuals behind him and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. Slowly turning on his heel, Doc encountered Mole and Joshua, who both smelled of tonight's special: Mexican Night if their wafting breath could be trusted. If either had the ability to bear true eyebrows, they'd be halfway to the back of their necks if the wide, curious stares were any indication. Mole glanced behind the transgen blocking the doorway and read the sign, whistling low in appreciation. "I would have threatened castration," Doc retorted, keeping his voice low. "But I ran out of room."

"Didn't know you had it in ya," Mole quipped softly. He nodded towards the door. "I thought it was pretty much an open room."

"Alec." The one hushed word caught the full and complete attention of Joshua and Mole, though nothing more needed to be said. The two recent arrivals nodded in complete understanding. In silence the trio turned down the hallway, their silent steps somehow echoing softly in the deathly stillness hanging around Max's door. Not another word was spoken among them until they were safely outside the medical building, Doc impulsively locking that door as well.

*****

He simply couldn't take it anymore, pretending he didn't know what was going on, playing his role in the mind games the adult's were foisting on him.

Jumping from his hiding place, Ray ran from the game of hide-and-seek - or escape-and-evade, as his friends called it. Because of the lack of Manticore's blood flowing in his veins, he always made sure his hiding places were distant and secluded from the others', knowing the other kids - even the younger ones - were faster, stronger, and smarter than he was: they could pound him in a second. He normally took the long route to the safety zone to help increase his chances of success; today he ran straight from the game. No one would notice his disappearance.

Ray high-tailed it to his secret sanctuary, merely a little blond blur on the street if anyone bothered to glance in his direction. When he came to his building, the pale monkey sightlessly shimmied up the ladder of the fire escape, collapsing into a mixture of long-buried wheezes and sobs when he finally flung his thin body over the edge of the roof. Containing his father's capacity for patience, Ray barely resisted the urge to rip the short hairs from his head in frustration and a brutal attempt to distract his breaking heart.

Did they think just because he was a kid he was blind?

Seething, Ray converted from an undersized and vulnerable blonde waif into the epitome of rage and resentment at his callous treatment. Out of unspoken fear, the child's tears became angry. He hurled himself to his feet, leaning so far over the edge of the roof his nose pointed towards the pavement hundreds of feet below and his feet lifted from the safety of the rooftop. "I'M NOT AN IDIOT! Do you hear me Terminal City?!? I'M NOT AN IDIOT!" He hollered it so loudly it made his stomach shake as the walls echoed the message, apparently planning to carry it all the way to down to Mexico.

That was only tip of the iceberg. Ray was far from finished, continuing with a series of names and colorful curses that even the most notorious of six year-olds had no right knowing, keeping up his earsplitting volume. Petite fists flailed in despair against the building in surprising strength, as if he wanted to knock it over with him on it, eventually staining the bricks with a deeper shade of red.

Only after he almost passed out from oxygen deprivation and pitched his body over the side of the roof did he break off. Several gasps later, the consuming black of oblivion lightened. Ray flattened his feet against the edging of the roof. With an indomitable grunt, the six year-old used all the potential power in his elfin little legs and flung his body back towards the foundation of the roof, soaring almost comically towards the cement and crashing like a sack of potatoes. He nearly gave himself a concussion on impact and blinked away the stars flooding his vision.

Whatever Ray lacked in patience he more than made up for in passion. Giving into his actual emotions, the sorrow flooded him until he thought he was going to drown in his own tears, if he didn't die of asphyxiation first. Everyone over five feet tall had been giving him the same gaze for weeks: that age-old blend of pity, speculation, and concern for his future. Ray knew that expression well. It was the same one people had given him when his mom's sister had told his new neighbors that his mother was dead and his father had "abandoned" him. It was the same one every adult had given him at his aunt's funeral. Ray knew it well, knew what it meant.

"She'll be better soon," everyone had told him. "But she's too sick to see you now." He hadn't seen her for weeks.

Aunt Max was dying.

"Please, please God. Not again," he hiccupped out, unmindful of the tears and snot seeping down the front of his T-shirt. "I love her so much," he said, helpless and desperate as a baby's first cry. "Ple-ease-ease-ease," he softly repeated, the broken word stuttering violently like one long note tripping up and down an octave as he shuddered. Ray curled into fetal position and the deep, bloody scratches on the side of either hand stained his dusty jeans.

Ray needed her so much. Aunt Max never treated him like the little kid everyone else saw him as. She held authority over him and played with him, but she didn't patronize him like adults always did. Aunt Max respected the person she knew was developing inside of Ray, instead of being like the other adults who always acted as though the "maturity" miraculously grew over the night of your twenty-first birthday.

Before he was even seven he'd lost two mother figures. He couldn't lose a third now.

So deeply absorbed in his own newly released pain, Ray never noticed the large, gawky figure that lumbered over the fire escape and curled the crying child into his arms. Afraid to try to manage himself and a nearly unconscious boy down the ladder, Joshua crossed over to the door leading to the rest of the building and kicked it in. He strolled down flight after flight of stairs, the young boy becoming more and more subdued as he slipped into oblivion. By the time the hairy and gentle beast reached the apartment he knew Max and Ray lived in, the boy was fast asleep. Joshua laid Ray down on the bed before looking for some supplies. The overgrown pup exaggerated every step in an attempt to make sure he didn't bump into anything and thus disturb Ray's peaceful slumber. Carefully Joshua cleaned and bandaged the torn skin on Ray's hands and put ice to the visible bump on his head.

After turning off the flickering bulb above his head, Joshua designated himself the boy's caregiver for the night and curled Ray into his side as he lay down on the mattress. Ray tensed and mumbled slightly in his sleep before settling into his full-body pillow of soft, furry warmth. Gently brushing the hair back from the boy's face, Joshua whispered his secret to Ray: "Max will be all right. Joshua knows these things."

*****

Alec sat motionless in that folding chair for what felt like days, more unsure of himself than any other time in his life. He hadn't moved a muscle since Doc left. Dusk surrendered to the absolute darkness of night, and still he didn't move. Alec had never felt so sluggish and stiff; the blood no longer pounded or slid through his veins, but the brake laid on time fell across his entire body as well, blood trickling at a snail's pace.

But with the stillness came a restlessness, and Alec forced his muscles to unlock as he stood slowly, stretching lethargically and taking some pleasure at feeling joints pop. He crossed over to the far wall, flicking the switch that poured light into the room. His eyes didn't need the light really - in fact they were aggravated by the sudden change - but he needed that last ditch effort at stalling. Taking several deep breaths, he braced himself for what he had to do. Ripping off the proverbial band-aid, Alec did an about face and looked directly at Max. 'This isn't too different from tearing off a band-aid. You get stung either way,' he allowed himself to think sarcastically.

However one good look at Max's ashen, sunken cheeks and they way her head hung limply to one side caused Alec to drop his constant, subconscious shield of sarcasm and egotism. The deathly pallor of her face and arms carelessly strewn on either side of her body was a swift kick to Alec's solar plexus.

Up until that moment it was easy to imagine it away. Up until that moment he had half-expected some shred of the old Max to face him, maybe she'd even sit up and rail him for being late in rescuing her or letting her be taken by White in the first place. Up until that moment he had hope. But as he looked at this lifeless creature before him, that small part of his heart that had clung so dearly to those wishes withered. Besides physical resemblance, there wasn't a shred of Max. The aura that she didn't even realize she held - the one that could be so powerful that it seemed touchable at times - had been replaced by death's ambiguous presence.

Up until that moment, he'd ignored it, the feeling of departure. The reality struck him with a near mortal blow to the flicker of hope inside him. Alec saw the actuality of it all with amazing clarity, felt death seeping through the pores in his skin. Doc's words echoed back, "Her mind has no reason to live." Max was dying.

She was really dying.

The Adam's apple in Alec's throat worked furiously, as if trying to pull the tears down from his eyes by the bucket load. It was too late though, for they were already spilling over his dark eyelashes, clumping the fine hairs in groups as if parting tall grasses for the their fellow legionnaires that followed close behind. The tears ran unchecked down his high cheekbones, a few slipping down his throat and soaking the neckline of his dark T-shirt, before he agitatedly wiped them all away.

She was dying. And all of Manticore's schooling was useless; he didn't know how to save her.

For the first time in his life, Alec let himself wallow in self-pity like Max occasionally did on her really bad days. It didn't last long though: self-pity was Max's weakness where self-hatred was his. It built slowly in him as it always had, but he'd never really possessed the power - or he was always at the point where he didn't want the power - to stop it. The revulsion crawled along his skin as it slowly boiled over.

'It's my fault. I let White get Max, and now I'm letting her die.'

A bizarre thought slipped through his self-directed abhorrence then: he wanted to kill himself, slowly and methodically. He had no real desire to die, but he so desperately wanted to extract the pain he had unconsciously unleashed on others - on Max - back to himself, he felt willing to do anything. If he could curb the torture he inflicted to himself, then the one's he always cared for most wouldn't be affected by the monstrosity he saw himself as anymore. It sounded crazy, but astonishingly logical in his fanatic state.

It sounded as crazy as Ben. His now deceased psychotic twin had battled his own self-hatred, if Alec remembered correctly. Not that Manticore had ever told him that - or even Max for that matter - but he had always figured that was the heart of Ben's problems. But instead of pouring the hostility into himself like Alec did, Ben had lashed out at others when the loathing needed to be released, killing them. 'But he'd always given them his barcode, like he was killing himself. Maybe Ben had been on to something,' Alec thought mordantly, a humorless smile on his lips. Comparing himself to his older twin in even the vaguest of terms was always a bucket of cold water over Alec's emotions, calming his back to a greater degree of sanity.

He scoffed at himself, but it was hollow, the last of the loathing slipping away, hiding on a far shelf to wait for another rainy day. Alec constantly contended with his self-hatred, and it was moments like these he attacked himself in near masochism. But looking at the Max's wan figure made him feel guilty and self-centered. Max needed him now more than ever and he was wasting precious time on himself. Typical.

Thankfully the tears tapered off for a moment as Alec sat down as gently as he could on her bed, oddly afraid of disturbing her sleep. The X5 allowed himself a small smile at the thought, but it never reached his eyes. The mattress was old and the springs were shot, causing her body to nearly roll to its side and look toward him. Almost timidly, Alec's hand reached for her profile. The moment his skin gripped hers the even the memory of the self-hatred melted away. His fingers caressed the side of Max's face in an intimate perusal, as if he could force animation back into her body, since he so clearly felt a surprising energy field centering around the fingertips stroking her skin.

Torn between nostalgic longing and hopelessness, Alec felt lost in his own misery and worries. So he did what Max would have predicted him to do in any uncomfortable situation - or any other situation for that matter: he talked incessantly. His sincerity and choice of topic would have surprised her though. "They say that people can still hear you when they're in a coma," he mumbled down to her, tearing his eyes from her face to watch his fingers rake through her dark hair. "And whether or not that's the case, I've got a little confession." His emotional control was slipping again, tears knotting in his throat. "I hate you," he whispered, although his tone held no trace of animosity. "I hate what you've done to me. I was fine on my own, being the good little soldier forced down my throat. Then you came along. I was warned about you. My superiors told me you'd be a handful, even by my standards." Alec let out a strangled laugh. "They underestimated you, but not as much as I did.

"I walked into your cell that night all prepared to follow my orders: get in, get the little soldiers swimming for your headquarters, get out. And what did I do?" He asked himself, unaware of the silent streams coursing down his cheeks. "I got myself pushed over by some ill-equipped X5 comin' from a heart transplant. And as much as I'd like to say I was distracted by your nice figure..." He instinctively ducked against a blow that wouldn't be coming and frowned in disappointment when it didn't. "I knew it was more than that, even then, although I never would have admitted it. I should have taken you out, but I held back the same way that I ended up holding back at Logan's apartment.

"You got under my skin from the very beginning, with that intriguing combination of your tough girl act and your mothering notions. I should have known I was screwed then." He paused, deep in thought. Even if Max could somehow hear him, she wouldn't remember what he was saying. However part of Alec's preservation instincts didn't want to take this confession too far; there were things that he didn't want to admit to her before he had even come clean to himself. But as he glanced down at her slimming figure, looking shrunken from lack of good food and sun and exercise, he caved a bit. What if this was a last chance, just as it had been with Rachel?

'It's now or never.'



"You affected me more deeply than any other person I've ever met, with the exception of Rachel. But now that I think about it, I can't help but feel that you two tag-teamed me without realizing it. I met Rachel first and fell in love with her, but we all know how that sordid little fairy tail ends up," he finished disdainfully. "I'm dragged back to Manticore for reindoctrination. I'm supposed to forget everything, but it only made every detail manifest in my mind. For a little while Max, I was alive. And after the reprogramming, despite all the outward coolness, I was still hungry for it, kinda defenseless against it." Even now the wonder of that moment in time wasn't lost on him. "Then you came along, so vibrant and angry and passionate from the moment I first laid eyes on you.

"That was Manticore's big mistake, pairing me up with you. Rachel was the first time I had ever shown any major rebellion and committed that major faux pas: human emotion. They should have known how vulnerable I'd have been to you. I saw all that you were and that part of me that Manticore hadn't killed - the part of me that loved Rachel - wanted those emotions, that fire, back. Then of course you burned Manticore to the ground and they couldn't stop me from having it anymore," he whispered down to her. Alec straightened a bit from his over and exhaled loudly, raking his fingers through his tangled hair. He looked and felt incredibly embarrassed, as if Doc had waltzed back into the room and caught him confessing his undying love for Max or something completely ludicrous like that.

This one-sided conversation was heading into dangerous territory.

"I can't say that you made me see the light or that your 'charm' made me want to become a better man overnight, but it was like Rachel planted the seeds in me, and left you with the work of watering them and making sure they grew. And despite the complaints and numerous beatings I received at those vicious little fists of fury attached to both of your arms, you never did give up on me, did you?" Alec had started out in his characteristic light, devil-may-care tone, his self-preserving armor fully restored. But as he saw the truth clearer and clearer, he reverted back to the honesty and wonder that had been plaguing him since he'd walked into the room.

He looked down at her face, a calm smile twitching the corners of his mouth. Max might be a woman marked for death but Alec would be damned if he'd let her go without a fight. He was unaware of how his passion had grown as he'd talked, the vehemence of his tone and expression slowly filling the small room, pushing death into a far corner. Alec had become the small flicker of hope he carried inside of him without even realizing it. "You never gave up on me, and that's why I'm not going to give up on you," he finished with a bright smile, forcing himself to be more hopeful than he felt.

And yet the promise held confidence and conviction for him instead of anxiety. This was a serious undertaking, but part of Alec felt that now he'd finally gotten to the job he'd been avoiding for so long started, he'd have the strength to carry them both and finish it.

Alec's eyes glanced up at the window over their heads. Dawn was beginning to peak through; a new day had begun. He'd stayed up all night worrying about Max, again. "Woman," he started in mock malice. "You constantly cutting into my sleep time is really beginning to piss me off. Make room," he ordered gruffly, pushing her to the side a bit before crawling into the narrow hospital bed. He made sure she was comfortably draped across him before he let his head fall back onto her pillow. With Max's head tucked into his neck, her low, even breathing soothed Alec better than any lullaby ever could. Slipping into unconsciousness himself, the X5 mumbled, "I'm gonna talk so much you'll have to wake up just to shut me up."

An hour later, Doc gradually inserted the key in the lock of Max's door and turned it doubly slow, as if hesitant to see what lay on the other side. The panther transgen was shocked but incredibly relieved at the sight that he ended up witnessing.

It was as if two bodies had fused as one in a lovers' slumber: their legs lazily coiled together, her leaning into his chest, heads tipped toward one another, his hand cupping the base of her skull protectively, the fingers woven into her dark tresses. Doc positively beamed at the hint of a contented smile on Alec's lips. He seemed to have made some sort of peace with Max overnight.

Knowing from experience that Alec was a light sleeper, the medic decided to do Max's morning check up later, pushing in the lock and slowly closing the door. But when his eyes drifted over to Max one last time his eyes widened then blinked rapidly. Finishing the movement gently, he waited to hear the doorknob click before leaning against the doorway, a question looming behind his furrowed brow. 'Nah,' Doc thought to himself, shaking his head slowly to push the inkling away. 'You're imagining things again. Letting your hopes get the best of you.'

Nevertheless, the image of the barest trace of a grin on Max's lips was never far from the back the panther's mind for the rest of the day.

*****

"Sit still," Joshua commanded, pulling a light streak of a yellow-brownish color across his canvas. In deliberate defiance, Ray kicked his feet a little harder and bobbed his head and shoulders a little more robustly to the tune in his head. He sang it softly, his head rolling from side to side across his shoulders. "You were everything I wanted/ But I just can't finished what I started/ There's no room left here on my back..." he hummed the part he didn't know before coming back stronger at the end. "Though you swear that you are true/ I'd still pick my friends over you."



Joshua let out a hefty sigh. So much for the serene pose he was trying to capture. He knew that underneath the layers of dirt, naughty grins, and impish eyes there was a miniature angel trapped in his subject's body...somewhere. It had been Joshua's plan to extract that forgotten angel in the youngster's body and slap it down on the canvas so there was proof Ray had more than just the Devil in him. His subject seemed to have other plans, however.

Dix stood behind the dogman's painting, eyeing it rather dubiously. The one-eyed scholar surmised that Joshua had somehow managed to establish a decent base before Ray had lost interest in becoming an immortalized work of art. He noted the scowl of concentration on the other transgen's brow had deepened with a hint of irritability when he couldn't paint the hair of Ray's constantly bopping head. "So the long-suffering Joshua does in fact have an end to his boundless good humor," Dix remarked dryly, not bothering to hide the smile in his voice, which only widened when he saw Joshua deliberately ignore him.

"Sit still," Joshua commanded again, only he sounded more sulky than authoritative, so the demand was quickly put out of the mind of the bouncing child. "What does Max do when Ray disobeys?" he asked the talkative child.

"She spanks me," Ray answered honestly, knowing Joshua didn't have it in him to raise a hand against him. "That'd just be mean, though. I'm already being punished."

"What makes you think that?" Dix and Joshua asked together.

"Look!" he yelled, his arms waving around the scene. And now that Joshua thought about, the setting for his painting had been part of the problem. It was one of those rare perfectly clear days of Seattle; the sun's rays glinting harshly against the rubble of Terminal City. The artist had planned to the use the city's wreckage to his advantage and contrast it with Ray's serenity, a "diamond in the rough" approach. Of course, although Joshua was occasionally no more than an overgrown pup himself, he'd forgotten a cardinal rule: little boys don't sit still, especially on days like this.

Admitting defeat, Joshua let the boy go with the wave of a tired paw. The dogman, although disappointed that his attempt at another masterpiece was all for naught, he couldn't bite back the grin responding to Ray's happy squeal. Shaking the boredom away, Ray tore down the street, calling back a quick, "Thank you!" over his shoulder.

Dix laughed and clapped a hand on Joshua's shoulder. "You can take the boy out of the Devil's claws, but you can't take the Devil's claws out of the boy," he said, before strolling away. Looking down at his unfinished painting, the artist couldn't agree more.

Within minutes of his liberation, Ray was sneaking down the hospital hallways, plastered against the wall, listening intently for the sound of footsteps the way Aunt Max had taught him. She and Ray would play the spy games like this all the time, racing down hotels' hallways stealthily to see who could reach the ice machine on the ground floor first without ever being seen by anyone or captured by each other. They'd play "sneak to the car" and "hide in the room" often, each "mission" - as Aunt Max called them - having different "objectives."

Although unusually bright - even by Familiar's standards - , Ray had never realized that the games had been more for training than entertainment.

Today's mission: get into his aunt's room without being seen by anyone, especially Doc. The panther medic had been the most adamant in keeping Ray from seeing Aunt Max, so he decided he didn't like Doc too much. Doc was mean, the enemy in today's little exercise.

Coming to Aunt Max's door, Ray saw the infamous "Do Not Disturb" hanging off the knob. He decided it didn't apply to him almost before he finished reading it. Ray glanced over either shoulder, making sure the long, white corridor was clear on either end, mischief smoldering in his light eyes. With a devilish grin that could only be matched by Alec, he dramatically withdrew from his pocket a small hairpin he'd confiscated from Gem. He jammed it in the keyhole, twisting the way Aunt Max taught him until he heard the catch open. With a smug smile, Ray slowly turned the knob and walked into Max's room.

Alec and Max were sleeping together on the bed, but that was okay because Ray liked Alec - a lot. He once heard Mole joke that he was actually Alec's kid, for such "a combination of crafty schemes and good looks" almost had to be passed down through that particular X5's bloodline; Ray didn't mind the jibe, he actually kind of liked the thought.



Yet it wasn't Alec he was watching from the doorway. Ray only had eyes for the favorite aunt he hadn't seen in over a month. He crossed the tile floor with a silence one would think could only be possessed by a true transgenic and not her protégé. Eyes drifting across her body, Ray's eyes welded up with tears.

In the games he'd been playing throughout the day he'd forgotten Aunt Max was dying.

"Hey, there," Ray's eyes shot up at the call of Alec's drowsy voice. The masculine fingers wiped the two tears coursing down the boy's face. "Don't cry."

"She's dying, isn't she?" Ray stated it more than posed the question. He felt himself huddling inwardly, giving up and shutting out the world like he had done when his real aunt had died, before he'd even heard of a beautiful woman named Max.

Alec watched the emotions on Ray's face - or rather, the lack thereof - with a stab of empathy. "Maybe," he answered honestly, watching the kid's countenance become even more guarded if possible. "It's not healthy to do that."

"Do what?" the sixty year-old little boy asked, staring at Max's face and yet staring at nothing.

"Draw into yourself like that, hiding your pain. I was told I had to do it when I was a kid and now it's hard for me to stop." Alec tipped the tiny chin and turned the pale eyes towards his murky ones, looking desperately for Ray but only finding only a wall. The kid was good, too good. "Do you want to come up here and get a better look?" the X5 asked.

Off of Ray's somber nod, Alec uncoiled from Max, and although she was cool to the touch, he felt a twinge of yearning at the loss of the little heat she had provided, even though it had been more emotional than physical. "Take off your shoes," Alec ordered.

Ray looked pointedly at the X5's feet. "Yours aren't," he challenged, gaining a bit of his old bite. Alec smirked and sat up, silently kicking his shoes off without missing a beat, calm as though he hadn't just been reprimanded by the half-pint. Ray grinned, scrambling into Alec's lap.

What should have been awkward - three bodies on a mattress that could barely hold one - was actually very comforting, each deriving strength from the familial presence of the other two. Ray's fingers touched Max's cheek the way Alec's had the night before. She was the coolest he'd ever remembered her. "Why isn't she dead, yet?" he asked softly. "She looks dead."

"Do you know what a coma is?" Ray shook his head, leaning back into Alec's chest, tucking his head under the X5's chin. "A coma is like she's asleep. But she's so deeply asleep she can't wake up," he explained simply, wrapping his arms around the boy's body protectively.

"Will she ever wake up?" Ray asked. The muscles his cheek leaned against shifted and fell again as the transgenic shrugged. "I don't know," he whispered. "But I'm going to try help her."

"Me too!" the boy cheered.

"That's if you live long enough," a voice rang ominously from the still open doorway. The duo on the bed turned and took in the livid eyes that spoke volumes more of the anger Doc was feeling than he could ever put into words. His dark, furry presence was near irate, absorbing the sun's energy from his back and shooting it out through his jet-black irises.

"And that's Doc's impression of the 'Wrath of God,'" Alec jibed. He pretended to address a crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give him a hand." The pair on the bed fell into a thunderous round of applause, full of whistles and catcalls enough to wake the dead, as though there were fifty people packed near the bed instead of three, one of them being unconscious. If anything could wake the patient, their ovation would be it, but Max didn't even stir a muscle.

Amazingly enough, the provoking these two were purposely laying out soothed his anger instead of rousing it. Doc hadn't seen either of the two so jubilant in weeks, and he found himself almost charmed by their wild antics. They both looked so much younger when they smiled. Swearing softly under his breath, Doc bit back a smile. He was supposed to be angry, and he pulled up a very convincing mask of fury, not wanting Ray to think he was so easily let off the hook. "What are you doing in here? The door was locked."

Although the panther's voice boomed, Ray was not to be intimidated. "I picked the lock," he quipped proudly, sitting straighter in Alec's lap.

"And the sign?" Doc thundered.



"I couldn't read it?" Ray offered, trying to muster up the most innocent look he could. It didn't work.

Doc tapped his foot loudly on the tile, his tail swishing back and forth heatedly. "Don't worry, Pinocchio, I'll come up with a proper punishment for you," he promised. He then turned on Alec, "The child resorts to easy charm and bold-faced lies without missing a beat when cornered. Mole was onto something: he is your son!" Strolling out the door, Doc slammed it behind him for added effect, smiling as the duo's riotous laughter followed him down the empty hallway.

*****

For the next three weeks, Alec delegated some of his work among his fellow transgenics. Instead of being peeved by their own increasing workload however, most were relieved. It was the general consensus that although a very flexible and strong leader, Alec took entirely too much upon himself.

So instead of working on the daily routine, the X5 spent every spare moment with Max. And he was true to his word: he did talk to her, incessantly. He talked to her from the moment he stepped in her room to drop by first thing in the morning, until the door clicked behind him after his last visit late at night, when Doc would force him out. Alec would brush Max's long, dark tresses while entertaining her with the day's endeavors and Ray's latest crimes as well as his ensuing punishments. The X5 played second fiddle to no one when it came to her care giving, only relinquishing the comatose young woman to Gem when it came to bathing her.

Alec took over Max's range of motion exercises as well. To keep her muscles from atrophying, the younger man spent several hours a day working her legs and arms, massaging her back, and so on. Of course massaging Max's back was almost impossible when standing next to her bed, not to mention uncomfortable on her masseuse's own joints. So of course common sense always led Alec to sit on her back very softly to get the best angle for the optimum massage range. And of course Logan always walked into Max's room in the middle of a back massage, much to both of the men's chagrin, although Alec always managed to hide his behind a cheeky smile, leaving Max's would-be boyfriend more distraught than ever. It wasn't that Logan didn't trust the X5 - okay, he was a little wary - but it was more that he felt a twinge of envy that he was in love with Max and couldn't touch her, while Alec could have his hands all over her and not feel a thing - or so he hoped.

And boy was Logan wrong.

It wasn't that Alec spent all his time lusting after Max or checking out her "attributes", although the temptation did plague him on more than one occasion - several in fact, but the X5 always kept his eyes front. The self-control and restraint Manticore had instilled since childhood didn't come without its benefits. It was just that Alec knew he felt more than he had any right to when it came to her. Those twinges of feelings he'd violently fought since first meeting Max had grown steadily over the past year, going into hyper-drive when she'd left and showed no signs stopping at her return, now went into some damned light speed. He was careening out of control and didn't even know where to find the breaks.

But he wasn't in love with her. He wouldn't be stupid enough to do that. As he'd told Max once, "We weren't designed to be chumps." But still, Max roused something inside of Alec. Something unnamed, too dangerous to put a finger on.



Alec's turmoil had taken a new turn. Doc could see it, feel it. Whenever he was in Max's room with the other X5, that hidden unrest made it feel like there were four bodies in the room instead of three. Doc could sense the fear that she'd never wake up had transformed into to desperation saying she'd have to. Determined to voice his fears, the panther transgen took his feline cousin to the side one day.

"Alec," he said. "You're wearing yourself to a frazzle."

The younger man shrugged apathetically, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "She's waking up, Doc. I can feel it."

"I'm not going to have her wake up from a coma just to have you work yourself into one," he responded gruffly, though not entirely unsympathetic to the X5's feelings. "Alec, look at yourself. You are two steps away from psychological break down. Back at Manticore you'd be considered next in line for a trip to Psy. Obs." Right after Doc said it, he wished he could take it back, watching Alec's eyes darken with the memories. He knew Alec had taken a beating in that particular wing of Manticore's medical facilities.

Doc looked over the X5 from the medical standpoint: bags under the eyes, pale skin, loss of appetite. Alec looked weary beyond his years. He'd become even more withdrawn than usual and had once or twice mentioned chest pains and palpitations, sure signs of a nervous breakdown. He was living a circular existence: hiding his emotions only made them boil more, which led to hiding them all the harder. If Max didn't wake up soon, Alec's obstinate nature would eat away at him. The good doctor was becoming seriously concerned for the X5's health.

Although cool and collected on the surface, Alec's own obsession with Max's recovery was beginning to scare him as well. His depth of feeling seemed to border on the psychotic. He pretended not to care about Doc's warnings even as he listened intently. And he tried to stay away more, give himself breaks. They never worked out. His leisurely walks around the perimeter would always lead back to her room, that dim hope that she'd woken up while he was away never dying.

But Doc had been right in his assumption: when pushed too far, even an X5 will break. And when an X5 breaks, he breaks big.

*****

"Logan, I need to borrow your car."

Disrupted from his discussion of Familiar theology with Dix, the older man's light blue eyes blinked up at Alec with more than a little surprise. Something was off, really off when even the ordinary could sense it. The X5's cheeks were flushed but judging by the heaving breathing, Logan guessed the transgenic had blurred his way across the compound. Then he looked into Alec's eyes. The irises surrounded their pupils like hazel flames around a black hole: wild, feral, and not to be swayed.

Although Logan had his doubts about Alec's sanity at that point, he also knew there was absolutely no talking sense into an X5 set on a mission - his first year with Max proved nothing if not that. In a tense silence, the blonde went against his gut and fished out his keys. The small slices of metal had barely touched the transgenic's palm before he was blurring back out the command center, the door swinging loudly against the silence of night.

'One down. One to go,' Alec grimly thought.

Given Logan's status as a cyber journalist - plus a few lined pockets - the older man was free to come and go from Terminal City as he pleased, the stupidity of the mob not even considering his possibility as a transgenic sympathizer. His car was parked in the compound's major garage, next to the common sight of burning garbage cans and the freaks of nature surrounding them. Alec strode toward Ol' Bessie with all the bearing of a C.O., and the small gatherings of transgenics parted the way like he was a leather-clad Moses with his contemporary Red Sea. Alec crawled into the car and flicked the ignition, the car squealing out the garage and into the night.

A half-block from their hospital, he stopped the car, slamming it into park. Inside the building, his feet flew down the hallway, rushing towards Max's room. Making sure Doc was nowhere insight, he slipped Max's body into the wheelchair Logan had provided for when Gem took her to bathe and possibly afternoon strolls. The silent duo managed to get halfway out the door when the panther transgen stopped them.

"Alec, where are you taking her?" he demanded, foot tapping and tail swishing in time.

"Late night walk."

"It's nearly one in the morning!"

"Fine, a very late night walk. It's not like I'm not going to bring her back Doc. Have a cow...no have a mule, they're smaller." With a bright smile, Alec was out the building with Max in tow, leaving yet another door swinging and another man baffled in his wake.

They reached the car without further incident, making it all the way to the fence before stopping. Alec recognized the guard on duty immediately, and located his partner a good three blocks down the street. Rolling down the window, he hissed, "Keith. Keith!"

The Sector cop strolled up to the car fearlessly, a large smile plastered across his face. When his saw Alec's traveling companion, it fell. "How is she?"

"Better. I have an idea that might move things along, but I need to get out of T.C."

"Well, that's a bit of a predicament, considering I'm not supposed to let anyone out, with the exception of that reporter friend of yours." They both paused for a moment, trying to decide what would be best to do. Alec had to get Max out of Terminal City or he'd go crazy; Keith needed to keep his job. Suddenly, Keith reached over and pulled on the door handle of the driver's seat. Confused, Alec stepped out. The Sector cop took the gun from its holster slowly and handed it to the transgenic before turning around. "Make it look good," he said. "I'll need the proof when I say a transgenic took me out. I've got a family to feed."

Alec clasped one hand on the policeman's shoulder, hoping he could feel his gratefulness through his fingertips. With a grimace, the transgenic used the butt of the gun against the cop's head, knocking Keith unconscious. "I own you one," he mumbled, slipping back into the car and tearing down the street just as Bruce came running to assist his partner.

Several minutes later, the dark-haired X5 perched at the top of the Space Needle, poring over the girl lying limply in his arms. He touched her face gently; the sallow cheeks were wet with drizzle and his tears. "Max, I'm begging you, wake up." He laughed hollowly in an attempt stop the tears. "Come on Max. You'd have to wake up just to see this. Me, the pain in your ass, begging, crying, for you to wake up. For you not to die on me."

The calm that he'd be harboring for weeks had been fading fast since they'd left Terminal City, and had now so diminished to near non-existence. "Damn you, Max," he rasped, shaking her slightly. "Wake up!" He stopped joggling her, sickened by the sight her of her head lolling so indifferently across her skeletal shoulders. The old Max would kick him across the room for even trying to grab her in such a manner and having the audacity to shake her. Her unresponsiveness was only another sign of what a far cry this breathing corpse was from the woman, the friend, he'd once known.

Alec sat her up in his lap so they were face to face; his legs sprawled to accommodate her and hers for him. He lifted her up slightly and drew his jean-clad knees together, making a crude recliner for her similar to the ones he'd seen X5 mothers like Gem do for their babies. Max leaned back into his legs, the back of her head kissing his knees as her dark hair poured down his thighs. "Damn you Max," he muttered angrily, raking one hand through her hair while the other lingered on her throat, not sure whether to caress her or throttle her. "This is all your fault. I didn't have to care you know, you just suckered me into it like you sucker everyone else. I knew better, and still I fell for it."

"What's it going to take for you to wake up, huh?" he asked loudly. Alec rotated slightly, so they were both parallel to the lip of the Space Needle. Turning her head to face the horizon, Max's closed eyes shut out the mixture of beauty and sorrow the panorama had to offer, the mixture she loved so much. The mixture that dwelled inside of her. "You're not dead yet," Alec roared down at her, enraged at her pale, impassive mask and his loss of control, the control he prided himself on. Max always got under his skin and did crazy things with his brain and emotions, and he was tired of it. "You hear me, Max! You're not dead yet!" He swore loudly. His volume kept rising to where his voice grew hoarse and his words bounced off the surrounding buildings hundreds of feet below, the words trying to clear her coma-fogged brain. "So dammit, crawl out of whatever hole you've locked yourself into and come back to me!"

After ripping at the zipper of his leather coat, Alec grabbed the flaccid hands at Max sides and shoved them under his T-shirt, forcing them against his palpitating heart. "Come back to me," he whispered. With an unmanly, broken cry, Alec leaned his head down to her chest and began to sob, giving up hope. He was wracked with them, letting the months of this nightmare be released. Alec's body shuddered so violently he never felt the fingers so tightly pressed to his chest drumming slightly, in tune to his seemingly breaking heart.

*****



Thump, thump. Thump, thump.



Fingers felt a pounding beneath them, the sensation traveling up two arms, across two shoulders, up the murky brain. The burden of a heavy, foreign object on a chest.

Thump, thump.

A sound - jagged and wheezing and mournful - assailed ears.

Thump, thump.

The smell of smog and foreign flesh permeated a nose. Lips parting, the taste of another's breath touched a tongue.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Two eyes opened. Spots of blinding light seared pupils, before fading into recognizable city lights.

And suddenly, Max was back. Sort of.

*****

It wasn't until long after Alec's sobs subsided that he felt a distinct change in the air surrounding them: a spark of electricity, a hint of life. Lifting his head slowly, he expected to encounter the same wan face he'd seen for months. His eyes slowly stroked her neck, her chin, cheeks, nose, and then something completely unexpected: a pair of open, confused, but bright eyes.

Alec was afraid to move. If he were imagining those soulful brown eyes were open he didn't want the fantasy to disappear. Then she blinked. Twice. And then Alec couldn't move; the blazing euphoria paralyzed him to capillaries.

It took Max only a moment to recognize the face. "Ben," she whispered through the invisible mush in her mouth, her fingers rubbing the chest under his T-shirt soothingly. Ben's face stayed bright, but that fervor of hopeful emotion shifted slightly in his eyes. She didn't understand what she'd done to disappoint her brother until she remembered.

Ben was dead.

"I'm not Ben," the stranger said slowly, as if understanding her muddled brain wouldn't pick up the words very quickly. Her mouth opened, a question forming on her lips at a frustratingly sluggish pace. "I'm his twin," he answered, a smile tweaking his lips. The stranger reached for her face, and Max ducked instinctively, her dizzy eyes not missing his look of defeat before he recovered with a bright smile.

"What do you remember?" the stranger asked.

Alec watched Max wither into herself like a frightened child, having a sickening feeling he knew exactly what she remembered. "White," she whispered brokenly, though much more lucidly. "He...he..." she stammered, embarrassed at the tears biting her eyelids and falling down her cheeks.

"Shhh," the stranger soothed her, wiping away her tears. "I know." He drew back when she leaned into his gentle fingers and Max glanced at him in confusion, watching him battle some inner emotion.

In an attempt to distract her, he filled her in briefly on who he was, purposely skipping over how antagonistic they were to each other. A very small part of him hoped for a new start. She filled him in on what she knew of herself in turn, remembering every detail except for himself and Ray. She'd forgotten them both. 'Yet she still remembers Logan,' an inner voice sneered. 'Maybe she came back for him.' Alec didn't fight the thought, oddly disturbed by the notion.

'Maybe she'd forgotten you and Ray first because she was most afraid for you,' the other voice countered. Instead of easing Alec's bizarre emotions, that idea only riled them further.

It wasn't until their basic introductions were over that Alec was made painfully aware that Max hadn't moved from his lap. He blushed for the first time in years and hastily helped her to her feet. She seemed very steady for someone who'd been in a coma for nearly two months - then again, she was a transgenic - and insisted on walking on her own. Alec followed her down the Space Needle slowly. In the enveloping darkness, Max couldn't see that her new companion kept one hand out at all times to catch her in case she fell.



They slipped into the car in a companionable silence. After buckling his seatbelt, he turned to face Max's curious gaze. "You said Alec was your name?" she asked. Swallowing convulsively, Ben's twin nodded. Although it touched confusion, Max's tone had never been so sweet when saying his name, and it shook him more than he'd ever care to admit.

"Alec," she said softly with a hint of wonder, as if trying it on for size, the word a caress. He turned away suddenly and started the car quickly, not wanting her to see the odd reaction so nakedly plastered across his face.

"Who gave it to you?" she asked looking at him again with those expressive chocolate eyes, making Alec derisively think that those eyes had been a lot easier on his heart when they were closed.

"A friend," he responded cryptically.

Max shrugged indecisively. "It's not bad, I guess," she said politely. She grimaced at the tone. Polite was not her thing. Like her late friend Original Cindy, she told people what she thought straight up. "It isn't too great, though. Your friend needs some work when it comes to naming people."

That shocked a laugh out of Alec, and suddenly he couldn't stop the flow. Just like the tears had been a release of his fears and sorrow, the laughter was a release of his elation. Max just stared at him in confusion which only made him laugh all the harder.

As the stranger's deep laugh washed over her, she found herself smiling in response. An unguarded, honestly pleased smile. And catching sight of it was more than enough to sober Alec up a bit, disturbed by the pleasurable ripples his stomach discharged in response.

Taking a sharp tone towards Terminal City, Alec said. "I'll have to tell my friend you said so."

*****



A/N 2: Whew, that chapter was a doozey! All the drama! I've been joking with a friend that I'm a couple of dyslexic devil worshippers and a flying saucer from a good old-fashioned soap opera. I am quite convinced that Diet Mountain Dew is my new inspiration though, the nectar for my muse. I was drinking it in like a flippin' fish with water while I wrote the majority of this chapter.

A/N 3: Whew, I'm never writing another chapter of this length again. I'll admit, I liked this chapter for a little while. Then my muse collapsed halfway through and I stopped liking it. I'm fasting and praying that you will feel differently. ; )