Title: Total Recall, Chapter 5

Author: redwing/csiphile

Disclaimers and the like on the first chapter.

AN1: Thank you for the reviews, yet again. Writing for a new fandom is a little…disconcerting sometimes. You get all happy and comfy in your regular one and its scary venturing into a new one. But everyone here has made it easy…thank you. I love y'all ask questions too. I'm more than happy to answer them, unless the answer is in the fic, then I might direct you to the chapter.

A special thanks to everyone at Nuns With Pens, you guys are the best!

AN2: Ahhhh the timeline snowjewel. I wasn't really clear was I? I think I like touched on it in the first chapter, timeline wise. This is about two years AFTER Freak Nation and season two as a whole. All the events on the show, happened. I'm disregarding the books, however, they don't exist in my fic world. Hope that helps!

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Chapter 5: Torture, Alec

"One oh one, one oh two, one oh three," he says between pushups. Alec had figured if he was going to be trapped in here for a while, he might as well get some exercise in so his muscles wouldn't be weak when they finally did let him out.

He actually hadn't minded the first few days in his cell; he used them to plan several escape scenarios, each one with contingency plan upon contingency plan. He had a thousand different plans in his head, each one calculated with Manticore precision. But first, he needed to get a lay of the land, commit to memory the layout of more than his six by six area he had come to know as home. Unfortunately his first look-see would most likely come on the way to Psy Ops.

"One thirty," he says, without even breathing hard or breaking a sweat. Despite the thick concrete door at his head, he can hear footsteps down the hall, and swiftly gets up, laying down on his cot just as the door opens and two armed guards enter.

He regards them carefully, but has a smirk on his face. "Ahhh, guess its time to screw with my brain. Huh?"

The camo-clad men say nothing, and he shrugs while standing, allowing them to cuff him.

"Jeez, that worried I'm going to escape? That's really not my forte, you know -- escaping. I'm more a get-let-out-and-hide kinda guy."

He gets a shove in the back in response, and walks out the door; they make a left, away from Max's cell. Looking back and forth between the guards that are flanking him, Alec purses his lips.

"Not exactly talkative, are we?" That earns him a gun butt to the back of the head. "Ok, ok...I'll be quiet. You just had to ask."

For the rest of the walk, Alec looks around, appearing to be disinterested while actually memorizing every square inch they walk by. After a few minutes, they come to a locked door and one of the guards he had mentally dubbed "Beavis" – the other appropriately named Butthead - pushes a button and a buzzer sounds, allowing them entrance.

Alec walks in and takes in his surroundings. It's really not that different from any other Psy Ops room he has seen. Stark white walls, monitoring equipment next to a hospital bed, steel cabinets lining one wall, presumably filled with methods of torture. He actually isn't terribly impressed at the setup. It feels more like a movie set than a room of supposed terror.

The guards bring him to a halt, and instruct him to sit in a hard-backed chair located in the dead center of the room. Well that's not good; can't protect your back if you can't see what's behind you. While he looks around, Beavis pulls his arms behind him, and attaches his wrists to a long chain connected to an O ring in the floor.

Alec remains silent as Bevis pulls as tight as he can, ignoring the minor discomfort that results. He keeps his mind running -- planning, plotting their escape. He made a promise to Max, and it's one he intends to keep.

Finally the two guards leave, and he calls out a sarcastic goodbye to them as the door shuts. He pulls at his restraints - his feet are also locked down - unable to cause any give. Obviously whatever these are made of, it would take more strength than he has to break it. Damn. Shifting, he finds a reasonably comfortable position and relaxes, doing what Manticore taught them to do; mentally taking himself away from the situation. Just as he settles nicely into reliving his first encounter with Max, a door opens.

But it's not the one he entered -- this one is in front of him, It had blended in so well with the walls that he hadn't even noticed it. He internally chastises himself for not noticing.

Alec keeps the bland expression on his face as two people enter, probably doctors, followed by the person who is quickly becoming someone he doesn't look forward to seeing.

Olivet.

He watches carefully as the doctors defer to Olivet, standing behind the older man as he comes to a stop in front of Alec. Alec can't remember seeing a director so involved with the reindoctrination of transgenics before.

"Nice to see you again, 494. I trust you're enjoying your stay?"

Silence.

"I see, you're going to play that game. Fine by me."

Swiftly, Olivet's clenched hand comes out and cracks Alec across the temple, causing stars to break across his vision. As Alec brings his head up, another fist hits his jaw with incredible power, and the stars make a repeat performance.

Something isn't right here. No human should be able to hit him his hard. Hard enough to cause his vision to blur slightly. Then he hits on the answer.

"You're a transgenic," he says plainly, and spits blood out on the floor.

"I guess that IQ of yours didn't go to waste after all."

Alec looks closer at the man; Olivet actually reminds him of a TV character from one of the shows he's seen. Skinner, from the X-Files. Tall, balding, around the same age, similar facial features, except Skinner wasn't a transgenic.

"Your not a 5 -- too old," Alec observes, turning his head to keep Olivet in his sights as the older man circles him. God, he hates this chair. "Three maybe? But all of them were…defective. Too animal-like, same as the fours."

"I was a success. Call me an early 5. Occasionally in the three and four series, they got it right. But most of those died early… progeria -- except me. The bosses decided who better to capture transgenics than one of their kind. Guess they were right."

"YOU are not one of our kind. Our kind doesn't do this to one another."

"Obviously they do, 494, or you wouldn't be here." Olivet smiles and straightens.

Alec can't help the anger that crosses his face at that. He had confirmed their suspicions in the van; someone on the inside had set them up.

"Ohhh, yes -- I'm sure you and your girlfriend there figured that out already. One of your kind gave you up." Again he leans in, whispering in Alec's ear. "I know you and 452 are…close."

Again…silence. This isn't good at all. Despite his promise to her, despite their resolve to hate each other… in the end, it didn't matter. Someone had ratted them out.

Olivet stands again, facing the other men in the room. "Let's get this over with. Get whatever information you can from him -- then start the program."

Several hours later, Alec is dumped unceremoniously on his cot. His body aches, but mostly it's his face that's causing him discomfort. Not that he is surprised; when he managed to pull together a minor getaway attempt, they had quickly subdued him with a few well-placed hits to his head. Always with the head.

He readjusts his position to relieve some pain from his tailbone. This was only Day One, and Alec knew many more were to come. They had started with trying to bleed information from him, but he gave up nothing -- much to his body's protest. He imagines tomorrow they will move onto psychological brain-screwing. His thoughts start to drift to Max; he can only imagine what they will do to her, but he knows she won't give up anything anymore than he had. Curling into a ball and facing the concrete wall, Alec slips into a dreamless sleep.

tbc………………