Author's Note: Sorry this took so long! I've been busy looking over colleges and whatnot. =D Senior year is going to be fun. I hope.

The Gift of Daylight

Chapter 14: Elevation

Location: Boeing 747, American Airlines Flight 919. Economy Class.

Time: 12:30 AM PST

So far, it had turned out to be a very interesting evening. The moment the team was assembled, the General immediately called in for air transport for the transgenic squad. To his dismay, all military aircrafts were stationed far from Seattle and would take too long to arrive. So, in the end, General Walker took the unconventional approach and had his soldiers commandeer a commercial airline— legally, of course. It was here that Max found herself peering out a small, circular, window, sailing 35,000 feet off the ground. Due to the time constraints, the airplane's staff; stewardess, stewards, pilots, co-pilots and all were brought along for the ride.

Max's entire team had showered, changed, and some of them were probably catching up on some rest now. By the time they reached California, they would hopefully be ready to do their job. Everyone was now wearing standard issue army wear. The outfits consisted of tight black military pants— ones that Alec vehemently protested to wearing— a zip-up black sweater, and smooth black boots to match. All in all, it was the most black Max had ever worn in her life. The entire team was also equipped with new gadgets and weapons. One of the gadgets was a synchronized, complicated looking watch. Max glanced down at it, and watched impatiently as the second hand steadily ticked.

For every second that passed, Logan slipped steadily towards death.

"Can I get you a drink?" a voice cut in gently.

Max snapped to attention, chasing the morbid thoughts from her mind. She peered at the blonde stewardess for a moment, observing the women's obvious discomfort for interrupting someone's train of thought. Max's initial response was 'no thanks' but after some thought, she decided something warm would help soothe her nerves. "Hot tea," she requested.

The stewardess nodded, walking back up the empty aisle to fetch the requested drink.

The Boeing 747 was naturally a huge airplane, made to fit 250 passengers, plus baggage. Right now it carried a measly group of thirty, so everyone was scattered at various parts of the aircraft. Since the plane was primarily empty, Max could have opted to sit in the first class section. But after a quick visit there, she learned that it was a popular area where most everyone crowded. And by the sounds coming from the front of the plane, Alec had striked up a poker game with some of the soldiers. That didn't interest her in the least bit.

In the end, she found her niche in an empty row of three chairs. She liked window seats, and the storm brewing outside had lightning, which illuminated the clouds adequately. Sitting a good distance across from her, was Zack, engrossed with reading a thick pamphlet that Logan had printed out for him. Max guessed that it was probably an autobiography with pictures to help aid his memory recovery. It was typically a slow process, but luckily, Zack was a fast learner.

Max shifted in her seat to peer at him. He seemed so immersed in his reading that she felt guilty for interrupting. But there were some questions she need to ask, and this was as good a time as any. "So Zack ... what exactly did you tell Zeke to inspire such a reaction?" she finally asked into the silence, with a grin.

He shifted his gaze from the papers to her. Seeing her grin, he grinned back. "Well, I told him about my life, because Dalton encouraged me to. I'm guessing the conversation was a test to see how far I had progressed in terms of regaining my memory. I wasn't trying to guilt trip him into helping us, but it worked out well in the end, didn't it? He's on our team now," Zack said, sounding satisfied.

"Yeah, for the best ..." Max commented under her breath, relieved that things were working to her benefit for once— or rather, for now. Seeing the stewardess approach, she pulled down her table and waited for her drink. Upon receiving it, Max nodded a thanks to the woman before she walked away. Max grasped the plastic cup lightly, feeling its heat radiate through to her hand.

"Hey Zack," she called out again, lifting the cup of tea to her mouth and taking a little sip. The warmth was indeed soothing, traveling down the length of her throat.

He flipped another page of the packet, being a fast reader, Zack could get through the large pamphlet in a few minutes. His attention was once again diverted to Max. "Yeah, Max?"

She couldn't help but smile, seeing the familiarity of her older brother creep back. "How far along are you with the flash learning?" She leaned back against her chair and relaxed her tense muscles, patiently waiting his response. She was very curious to find out what he had learned, and she hadn't been able to talk to him since Harbor Lights Hospital.

"Actually, I already finished a few hours ago," he confessed.

Max blinked. She didn't know he was that fast of a reader, maybe she underestimated Manticore's abilites.

"But," he continued, "I decided to re-read some of the blurrier parts. Some of these memories fall into place easily, but others ... they're not clicking, you know?" he seemed uncomfortable with that last part, and Max didn't know why.

"What do you mean?" she asked, furrowing her brows in thought. She took another sip of the tea.

"Let me show you something," he flipped a few pages back, then stood up, and settled in the seat beside her. He had his finger pressed underneath a sentence of writing that was bolded, italicized, and underlined. Of course, he was pointing out this sentence to her.

In the packet, Logan had emphasized the following sentence :

"... For clarification, YOU WERE NOT ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH MAX AT ANY TIME DURING YOUR LIFE. ANY EMOTIONS, THOUGHTS, AND/OR CONFUSION REVOLVING AROUND THIS TOPIC SHOULD NO LONGER BE AN ISSUE ..."

Max coughed a bit, suppressing a snicker as best she could. Logan ... funny guy, that one.

She looked up to see Zack looking back. "Um ... yeah, that's true. We were never like that, Zack." She suddenly felt tense again, considering how taboo this topic was. After all, this was the reason Zack had attacked Logan in the first place and triggered another memory wipe.

"Ah, I see ..." he murmured disappointedly, looking from her back down to the packet. He seemed to be in deep thought, struggling through something. "But I have ... these feelings, fragments of thoughts. I just— ... it's that— ... well, when I look and think of you, I have flashbacks of moments ..." his voice trailed off, and he instantly stopped talking the second he saw the distressing expression on her face.

"So you and Logan are ...?" Zack seemed strangely awake all of a sudden, his curiosity peaked on this subject.

Max paused for a second and looked down at her cup, the honey colored liquid emitting a light fragrance. It would be dumb to deny what was so blatantly obvious to everyone, and of course, Max wanted to avoid playing mind games with Zack at all costs. The poor guy was already too confused as is. But something inside told her not to admit the evident, for fear that it might trigger some killer jealous rage within the other X5. Just like the last time.

"I mean, if I'm out of line for asking, you can just say so," he said apologetically, as if hesitant to cross a certain boundary. Zack noticed the state of contemplation she was in, and respected that. "For what it's worth, as your big brother," he emphasized that title proudly, "... Logan's okay by me."

Max looked startled to that announcement, but was relieved at the same time. She studied his face, seeing none of the imperfections that could be caused by the implants within his body. It seemed that for every time Zack lost his memory, he was born again as a slightly different person. It was like he had been reincarnated three times, still with the same foundations, but as different person in his own right.

For unexplained reasons, she still opted to deny telling. "No," Max started, "Logan and I aren't like that."

"Riiight, sure you two aren't," Zack prodded with a grin. The awkwardness in the subject seemed to fade entirely, and now they were simply brother and sister again— sitting side-by-side and poking fun at each other. "You're a bad liar. Almost as bad as Krit."

"Hey, don't compare me to Krit. I'm not that bad," she protested, sounding mock offended, "... you just know me too well."

He appeared to take that sentence to heart, a warm smile spreading across his features.

"Yeah ... I guess I do."

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Location: Location: Boeing 747, American Airlines Flight 919. Business Class.

Time: 12:30 AM PST

Zeke was picking at the collar of his shirt, feeling a bit restrained due to the zipper. Things would have been twice as bad if he was forced to wear those tight pants, but thanks to Alec and his loud protests, all the men were spared from wearing black spandex. Zeke casted an anxious look around the plane's interior, clutching tightly onto the armrests as if his life depended on it. There was some turbulence due to the storm outside, and flying was not one of his favorite things to do. He preferred being safely on the ground, where he didn't feel so vulnerable. Also, it didn't help things much that the inside of the plane was freezing and as dry as a saltine cracker.

Though now that he was in Business Class, he found that the seats were much more comfortable and the space more roomy than the economy class downstairs. Zeke fidgeted with the remote attached to his armrest, adjusting the position of his seat back and forth. His personal TV was on but some sappy love movie was playing, and it hardly interested him.

Sitting right beside him in the window seat, less amused, and deathly quiet thus far, was his Familiar counterpart— Seth.

Zeke had given up trying to talk to him after the first half hour, but now that he was awfully bored, he decided to give it another try. "Hey Seth, you don't have to sit as stiff as a wooden board you know. Don't you want to lounge?" to emphasize his point, Zeke jabbed a button on his remote. The chair violently jerked backwards, taking a surprised Zeke with it. "Oh damn," he muttered, "I so didn't expect that," he braced himself, then glanced at Seth.

Seth returned from whatever planet his mind was at and looked at Zeke with a stoic expression on his face. He simply shook his head.

Zeke sighed, returning his chair to a forward position. He was itching to ask a certain question ... and since no one else was around, he decided that he would. "So ... um, Seth ... why don't you ... yanno, talk?" Zeke tried to filter out the apprehension in his voice.

Seth broke his gaze from the window and looked back at Zeke. He shrugged.

Zeke sighed in resignation. "Fine fine, you don't have to tell if you don't want to," though his voice hinted that he still wanted to know. "But it's not fair that you talked to ... Rianne." Zeke twitched at the mention of her name.

Seth did too.

"What was it between you and Rianne anyway?" Zeke tried again, oblivious that he was poking into uncharted territory.

No response.

"I mean, you talked to her, right? And you don't talk to your mom so that must mean you liked Rianne more than your mom," Zeke hadn't quite gotten over his teammate's death, but his curiosity overtook his grief.

Once again, no response.

But Zeke wouldn't quit. "Not that it matters now since they're both ... gone," his lip twitched again, "but it was Rianne who shot your mom." Zeke shrugged, he didn't think it was that big a deal. But obviously— Seth did.

The boy seemed to be stunned by that, his attention now fully on the Element. Seth seemed to be struggling through an inner battle. A few seconds later, it was resolved. "Did she die instantly?" he asked, his voice a bit raspy and tired.

Zeke paused fidgeting with his TV remote and peered up, now energized since he had finally gotten Seth to talk. "Your mom? Oh yeah, she had a nice big hole blown into her back," he exaggerated.

"Too bad for her," Seth said dully.

"Any reason in particular you hate your mom that much?" he tried, half-expecting Seth to tell him to shut up.

Seth sent him an appraising look, as if trying to decide if the other honestly cared or was being plain nosy. "She's not my real mom," he finally said, with a scowl. "Her real son didn't survive the initiation, so she took me away from my parents." And that was that.

Zeke blinked, a bit taken back. He should've expected to discover something this interesting from someone so ... unusual. "High-ranking officials get a lot of power, but ... but I don't think they can do that."

Now the pale boy, previously unmoved and apathetic, had sad eyes. The eyes of a victim. "She adopted me," he said with a shrug. Now that, in the Conclave, was perfectly acceptable. Every Familiar child who was worthy enough to survive the initiation had to be raised. "After she beheaded my parents," he said, with a controlled rage resting beneath his voice, "in front of me."

Zeke swallowed hard. Suddenly, the chilly cabin felt like it dropped a few more degrees. Zeke wasn't a psychiatrist, but that might explain why Seth routinely beheaded his enemies. Maybe it was due to trauma, or maybe it was due to pent up anger. Either way, it wasn't pretty— but it was in the past. "Well she's gone now, so you don't have to be so uptight anymore. The score's settled, I guess."

"No it's not," Seth snapped. "It's not over until we stop the Coming. I'm not here to help the ordinaries, I'm on this plane because I want to cause hell for the Conclave."

Comprehension hit Zeke in the face like an ice-soaked rag. While Zeke's reasons for being here were clearly different than Seth's, he was relieved to find that the other boy was here anyway. "To each his own, I guess," he murmured. In a way, Zeke felt pity for this supposed predator, who was in reality, the prey. This was no way for a teenager of seventeen years old to be, let alone act. Then again, Zeke didn't have much of a childhood, but at least it wasn't as crappy as Seth's.

"Hey Seth," he spoke up suddenly, in an effort to brighten things up.

"Hm?" Seth responded, his attention now back to Zeke.

"Watch what your chair can do, it's so cool," he stated, reaching over to swiftly hit the lounge button.

"Wait— Zeke, no!" he protested, but to no avail. The chair snapped back, causing a shocked Seth to quickly fall into a lounging position. The footrest flew up and before long, Seth found himself staring at the ceiling. The shock was unmistakable on his face, it soon faded away to become irritation.

Zeke twitched. If he had calculated wrong, and Seth took offense to what he had just done ...

But to his surprise, the irritation disappeared as quickly as it appeared. And for perhaps the first time in his life, Seth ... smiled. It took a few seconds to find something to say— but eventually— he found it.

"... Cool."

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Location: Location: Boeing 747, American Airlines Flight 919. First Class.

Time: 12:30 AM PST

"Alec, I don't want to play anymore," Krit stated dully, unenthusiastically holding up a row of cards. He looked puzzled, and in fact, he was.

"No no, come on, this is easy," Alec encouraged distractedly, sending Joshua an amused look. He nudged the soldier beside him. "Your turn, bud," he said over the loud chatter the other soldiers were making.

"Nah, I'm tired and I'm down ... what, fifty bucks now? I fold," he put his cards down and stood up.

"You flip," Joshua corrected.

"No, it's 'fold', big guy," Alec corrected him.

Joshua looked puzzled.

"Don't worry about it," Alec assured, giving him a pat on the back. "Fine fine, get outta here," he said lightly to Krit, with a grin. "But you owe me and you better not forget or the interest piles up, buddy," he chided.

"Yeah yeah," Krit mumbled.

"Don't forget," Alec called out as the other X5 stood to leave.

Krit nodded and walked past a curtain to exit First Class. He ended up in a less crowded section of the plane where some of the staff was scattered around. At a distance, he easily spotted Max and Zack chatting over something— and to the right, he saw Syl reading a magazine. With a wry smile, he dragged himself over to there and settled down beside her.

"Was poker with Alec interesting?" she asked, pulling the window's cover down and flipping a page.

"Well ... anything with Alec is interesting," Krit conceded with a smirk. He yawned loudly and stretched his arms out to loosen up. "Phew," he said finally, after settling down. "So I've been thinking," he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for the right time to spring this on her.

Syl was surprised by his suddenness, but she hid it well. She simply closed the magazine and set it neatly on her lap. "Yes?"

"We've known each other for a while now, right Syl?" he asked nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"... Our entire life, Krit. So yes, that's a while ..." her voice trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously.

"And we ..." he seemed to struggle at this point, "we love each other, don't we? As much as Max and Logan love each other ... no matter how much they deny it. No matter what, we can depend on each other."

Syl grinned to the Max and Logan comment, how true it was. She finally had an idea where this was going and couldn't help but smile. Krit had been putting it off for a while now. "... Yes, I'd like to think so," she remarked blissfully, patting his hand.

"I guess there's no better time than the present," he started nervously, "especially when we're on this mission and we don't know what's going to happen. Time is precious, particularly now."

He was rambling, she noted. But she let him ramble anyway. "... Of course," she agreed, silently inviting him to continue ...

"Then Syl," he said, locking eyes with her. His expression became serious and he sounded out of breath for some reason. "Will you ..."

She perked up, her attention fully on him.

"... Lend me fifty dollars? Because geez, Alec's a damn good poker player."

A/N: I had to do that ... I just couldn't help myself. I have a soft spot for Syl and Krit. Anyway, stay tuned, I've got a few ideas buzzing in my head for the upcoming chapters.