James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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Leaving the Past Behind

"Is this seat taken?" a young woman asked. Alec simply waved an inviting hand, not even bothering to look at the beaten-up barstool sitting next to him. He wasn't interested in the alluring female who now hung threateningly close to his personal space. Had she been larger (or male) he might have made some type of threat assessment; but a petite, mid-twenty-something woman didn't concern him enough to draw his attention away from the scotch in his glass. Not even when her voice sounded strangely familiar.

The half-empty glass of scotch, he noted sadly. Or half-full. He was tempted to follow that train of thought, but chased it away. He mentally patted himself on the back, comforted by the thought that this time – for the first time – he'd really chased the thought away. He hadn't simply turned tail and run away from it.

Half-way done. The words returned briefly to tease him, refusing to flee from his mind as he raised a toast in celebration over his victory. Or at least his survival. Alec was prepared for the words' resilience – he'd been here before, faced this particular challenge. Half-way done. He drained his glass, raising it with his right hand to get the bartender's attention, deciding that another celebratory drink was in order. Half-way done… He almost chuckled at his subconscious, now seeming to him like an infant who repeated the same words over and over, unaware that there was so much out there to be experienced and said. They're only words, and words can't hurt me, he assured himself. Not anymore. His hand went to his pocket to grab a cigarette, but came away empty as he remembered – for the thousandth time, it seemed to him – that he had quit. Once again, he found he minded that less than he had the time before. At this rate, in about ten years I won't even think about cigarettes anymore, he thought sarcastically.

Almost out of habit, Alec glanced at his watch. 7:30 P.M. Just another half-hour. Then Jack'll be here. It'll be good to see him again. It's been awhile. But until then, this new bartender will have to do.

"Stay here," Alec muttered to the bartender before the man had even finished topping off the glass. Alec tossed back the freshly topped-off glass and gestured for an immediate refill.

"So what's her name?" Alec heard the young woman next to him ask. He knew she was addressing him – there was no one else close enough to be talking to with the bar so sparsely occupied – but he ignored her, hoping she'd do him the service of melting into the earth and leaving him alone.

"Hey, what's her name?" she continued, touching his arm lightly, as if to get his attention. "Or should I just start guessing this time?" His eyes were upon her the moment her skin touched his jacket, a quick, practiced evaluation intent on proving that she was, in fact, as irrelevant a threat as he'd initially concluded she was.

No weapons, he noted immediately. And she's small… too small to be a threat. He simply moved his arm away from her, hoping she'd get the message. Though the night was definitely one for a celebration of sorts, celebration was hardly something he felt the need to share with a stranger. He thought he'd gotten his message across, but either he hadn't or she decided to ignore it.

"She must have burned you pretty bad to make you clam up like this," the woman commented. Alec's only response was to gulp down his scotch and raise his glass again, yearning for the next mouthful of happiness. "And to drink like that," the woman added.

"Go away," Alec muttered, completely uninterested with propriety.

"I don't think you want me to go away," the woman replied. "Not this time, anyway," she added almost inaudibly.

"I do," Alec assured her, completely oblivious to her last words. "Get lost."

"If you really wanted to be alone, you could just as easily have told me that the chair was occupied," she reasoned.

"I would have been lying."

"And is that a problem?"

"Look, miss," Alec spat, whirling to face her, his gaze passing over her again. "I --" He lost his words as he locked his eyes on hers, immediately wondering how his first two glances hadn't revealed the sun-bright emeralds that stared back at him. Those can't be real, he reasoned. They must be contacts or something… He searched the edges of her irises but couldn't find the telltale outline of the contact lenses he was certain were present. He suddenly found her to be strikingly familiar as déjà vu slapped him in the face. "Do I know you?"

"We talked for a few minutes a couple of months back," she told him. "You weren't really talkative then, either."

Alec nodded as he suddenly remembered meeting her. "Go away," Alec told her again, just as he had before. "This is a private party."

"A party? Had to have been a woman…" she commented. "Is that why you're doing the James Dean despondent routine?"

Alec ignored her.

"Because you know, whoever she is, she isn't worth it. Even if it's the same one as last time and you're still hung up on her or something."

Alec still ignored her.

"In fact, I don't think anyone's worth the kind of devoted drinking you have going on."

"Why are you still here?" Alec countered. "I told you this is a private party… your blathering isn't welcome." He set his gaze on her and was immediately reminded of why he'd remembered her in the first place. Hottie with a body…

"I'm Alec," he said with bit of a nod and an almost imperceptible wave, deciding that he couldn't really go wrong by covering once-traveled ground.

"I know," she answered. "I'm Jana." She smiled broadly, as if she'd just won some incredible prize. "So are you gonna tell me this time, or should I just wait until we bump into each other again in a couple of months?"

"Tell you what?"

"What's her name?"

"Their names," Alec heard his voice reply before he'd taken a moment to consider the possible repercussions of the response. This might mean a real conversation, a panicked part of his mind warned him. And then an exchange of phone numbers. She might even start to think of you as a friend. Or even more. We can't handle that kind of responsibility. You know what could end up happening.

"Their names?" Jana responded. "More than one, huh?"

"Yeah, more than one…" I can do this, Alec told himself, stifling the irrational fears that had dominated him for over a decade. I can't keep living in the past, afraid that I'll repeat my mistakes again and again, just as I always have. I have to move on. It's what they would have wanted.

"So…" Jana was prompting.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out for a sec," she told him. "I just asked you what their names are."

"Were," Alec corrected. "They're all dead." He ignored the concerned, awkward stare Jana directed at him. "Their names were Rachel, Max, and Keri."

Fin

Author's Endnote: Well, that's it. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I have an idea for a sequel, and I've even gone so far as to write a prologue and parts of Chapter 1. However, I honestly don't know whether I have the motivation to write another long Dark Angel story, so I'm not gonna start posting anything unless/until I know I have a good chance of finishing it. And as far as finishing projects goes, I should really go finish my BtVS story, The Watcher. I feel very guilty about setting that aside to write this.