In the repair bay, X was staring down at Zest's body. Tears were slowly running down his face, and he didn't try to stop them.

He was crying for more than just Zest, but his lover's broken body seemed to symbolize everything that had happened today. It hadn't been the worst day the Hunters had ever suffered… no, the day Sigma went Maverick, taking his own unit and mangling all the others was still in top place. The day Elysian had hit the ground was a definite second… the world was still recovering from all the effects of that. But today was at least tied for third.

Almost all of today's patrols had been annihilated. That was a good quarter of their total strength, just… gone. Patrols were hideously vulnerable, which was why their exact paths were randomized and locked in every week. Because of the random paths they took, it was impossible for the Mavericks to predict where any patrol would be. Unless they got hold of the weekly schedule.

And it was clear that that was precisely what had happened. Someone had given the schedule to them, and it made X want to scream. How? How could someone they had trusted do this to them? And who? Guilt assaulted X. He was the commander, he should have prevented this, somehow…

X was so absorbed in his self-recriminations and pain that it took a while for the sounds of a squalling fight to penetrate. But finally, it reached him, and he looked over at the participants with a frown.

"…And I say you're a douche bag!"

"Insolent bitch! I was built for this and trained by the best in the field!" Lifesaver glared furiously at Angel, who glared right back, her hands on her hips. "I certainly know more about Reploid repairs than some street whore wannabee!"

"And you're still a douche bag!" Lifesaver's face turned an alarming puce as Angel spat on the floor, in front of his feet. "I'm just the one who's fix him as long as he's been alive, you cretin!"

"Excuse me," X stepped in, mostly operating on reflex. He really didn't want to be the peacekeeper right now. He wanted to go to his room, curl up in a ball, and hope everything would just go away. But it wasn't going to, so… duty called. "What's the problem here?"

"This douche bag won't check Zest's neural net for activity!" Angel jabbed a finger at Lifesaver. X winced. Angel obviously didn't know much about Reploid physiology. Despite the transmission, it had taken them several hours to find the place their friends had been executed. Only one had been clinging to life, when they reached it. He was expected to make a full recovery. So was one more, whose power plant had gone into safety mode but not given up entirely. But given his wounds, Zest must have died within the first few minutes. Starved of power, his neural net would have gone into system failure, wiping away his personality functions. The person they knew was gone.

"Angel, it's been hours. There's no way his neural net could still have activity… I'm sorry." X said as comfortingly as he could, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She shrugged off his hand irritably.

"And you're a douche bag, too." X blinked… he'd been called a lot of things, some of them not at all complementary, but that was a new one. "Don't you morons think that maybe, just maybe, I know a bit about his systems? And the things we planted in them? He's got a backup battery in his head!"

"He's… what?" X asked cautiously as Lifesaver frowned, then turned away and started running a scan. Lifesaver's expression suddenly changed into the greatest show of surprise X had ever seen from him.

"I'll be damned," he muttered, which was almost more unexpected. Lifesaver never swore. "She's right. His neural net is active…" Lifesaver immediately called several nurses over, and they quickly began hooking Zest up to life support. However his neural net had been sustained this long, they wanted to make sure it would stay put. Angel and X backed out of the way, although Angel couldn't resist a few spiteful, I told you so's.

"But how?" X stared at Zest, hope and disbelief warring in him. Then he looked at Angel. "How…?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Lifesaver said, not looking up from his work. Angel shrugged.

"It's a micro-chemical cell battery. Only a prototype one, and dad got it from one of the engineers who worked on it. He wasn't sure what he'd use it for, until he got the idea of tying it into Zest's neural net in case he ever got killed." Her expression turned bleak, for a moment. Then she took a deep breath, and shook her head. "It's about the size of a pinhead, and it's implanted right into his neural net… it adds maybe six hours to the time he can be reactivated."

"Why is no one marketing that? I've never even heard of it." Lifesaver sounded personally affronted. Angel shrugged, then grinned.

"Well, maybe 'cause it's not meant for Reploids. We adapted it, but it's meant for really small equipment… that six-hour lifespan is more like a year for something less energy intensive than a Reploid neural net. And it can be recharged, too, but right now it's too expensive to market in any reasonable way."

"Hmm. How expensive?" Lifesaver stood back as the life support equipment flipped on. Zest was still technically dead, slashed apart, but his neural net was being fed a constant, low-level flow of energy. As long as he remained hooked to the support systems, they could take as long repairing him as they wanted to.

"About a quarter of a million." X's gasp was loud, and Lifesaver winced. "We only got it because it was the first prototype, and scheduled to be chucked in the wastebasket. Tecknologic has got better versions now, slightly cheaper. Just not cheap enough."

"I'll have to report that to Signas," Lifesaver said, and this time X winced. He could imagine what Signas would do with that information. The next time they got funding, he'd try to wangle a few of the little batteries free from the parent corporation of Tecknologic. If they were mostly in the prototype stages, they might let a few go as charitable contributions. Then they would be used on X, Zero, and the other unit commanders. Right now, that made him feel more guilty than anything else in the room. Why did they deserve such protection when others died? X closed his eyes. He knew the answer. Because we're the heroes, the heart and soul of Hunter HQ…

He shook his head, pushing the thought away, and looked back at Zest. He was still tattered, torn and broken, but it seemed like there was some light in his eyes, now. X knew it was only his own imagination, but still… he reached own to touch the soft, roughly cut golden hair.

"You'll be alright soon," X whispered softly. "Everything will be alright."

Why did he not really believe that?

Thomas leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and lacing his fingers together over his stomach.

He had been analyzing data all day, and had found no answers. The common weakness in all spying operations was the need to report. Data was useless unless you reported it, but that was always a dangerous proposition. There were many methods of communication… dead drops were good, although you ran the risk that the message would be lost in transit. Thomas remembered a time he'd been forced to send the same message five times, in a bottle down a canal. Idiotic, but it had worked in the end and no one had clued in. Lord only knew what had happened to the first four bottles. Probably collected by the poor for recycling. And then there was actual, face to face meetings with a contact. Contrary to the popular image of a clandestine rendezvous under the stars, such contacts usually occurred in very busy, noisy settings like a bar or a restaurant. A steakhouse, preferably, if you could get a seat near the grill. The sizzling did vicious things to anyone trying to eavesdrop electronically. E-mails could be used to send messages, but it was wise to keep them very short and obscure. Thomas winced faintly as he remembered how he had used a spam e-mail to indicate to a colleague that it was time to break and run. It had saved his friends life, but it had still been… spam. And for arranging a meeting, nothing beat the personal section of the local newspaper. He sometimes wondered how many of those silly personals were actually sincere, and how many were messages from people like himself.

But nothing in the data he'd gleaned had given any indication of how the spy was making his or her reports. Thomas had the nagging feeling that he was missing something, something that would be clear if only he understood everything about how Hunter HQ worked.

He turned his mind away from that fruitless train of thought, and considered the other information he'd put together. He'd been absolutely certain, coming into HQ, that he would find the Hunters had underestimated the extent of the spies' activities. Now he was sure of it. From the casualty reports and all the instances of suspicious bad luck, he was sure someone had been feeding the Mavericks the patrol schedules for months. They had been keeping their depredations modest, making it look like bad luck, but it had been nothing of the sort. And after digging a bit, he'd found something more disturbing. An odd number of Hunters had gone AWOL in the past six months. Nineteen, in fact. Records before that showed the average number of Hunters who disappeared without a trace, for six month periods, was about five. That still seemed a little high to Thomas, but he supposed the combat got to some people, and they couldn't bear to face the music. Still, that left fourteen disappearances more than there should be. Perhaps he could assume it had been a hard six months, and take away four from that total. Ten unexplained disappearances?

Why hadn't this alarmed the Hunters? Checking the records, he snorted with amusement. The spy had been quite clever. The few reliable Hunters who had disappeared had left typed notes to friends giving various excuses, which had naturally been turned in to the commanders. The rest who had disappeared were mostly disciplinary problems or loners. Good Hunters, perhaps, but for one reason or another their commanders hadn't been particularly surprised to see the last of them. But how had their disappearances been arranged?

Checking the records for several of them, he discovered that most of the AWOL Hunters had been creatures of habit. The Navigators kept detailed, but rather disorganized records of all the Hunters comings and goings. In the city, there was a great deal of fragmentation of the signals, but if a Hunter stayed in one place long enough the Navigators would pick them up and the computer would automatically plot them on a city map. So he knew that, for instance, Nike had always visited a certain bar on Monday, presumably his day off. And he had disappeared on a Monday. Tomacita had liked to visit a certain restaurant on Thursdays… the day she disappeared. And so on.

At first, Thomas thought he had hit the jackpot with that revelation, but he'd quickly discovered that the records he was accessing were not classified. He sighed in disgust, and made a mental note to tell Signas to classify them immediately. But for now, as far as he could tell, any Hunter with the patience to go through them could have arranged these disappearances. All the Hunters had access to the patrol schedules, too. He'd proven nothing, although he could give the unit commanders a good kick in the pants for not investigating all these disappearances.

Although… Thomas frowned, checking over Zest's schedule. He didn't know Zest as well as his sister Angel, but he knew him well enough to know that 'habit' and 'Zest' were usually mutually exclusive terms. And while he wasn't exactly a social butterfly, he wasn't in the habit of going out alone either.

His suspicions were correct. The Navigator's records showed that Zest liked to play around in groups ranging from two to five, and the destinations had no rhyme or reason. A surprising number of two's, though… did Zest have a lover? Thomas shrugged that consideration away. But how had someone pinpointed Zest? Bad luck? Perhaps… there was always bad luck to be taken into account. Or something else?

Thomas shook his head, and pulled over a notepad. Perhaps, when Zest woke up, he might remember something useful. Until then, he had a presentation to make to Signas and the other unit commanders regarding his progress. Signas probably wouldn't be pleased with the information he had to give, but he would appreciate it. He wasn't the sort to prefer a comforting lie…

Three days later.

"X, you really, really shouldn't be doing that," Kumba said with a frown, fingering a large, nasty looking gun. It was an Armageddon 366, commonly used by police agencies to apprehend Reploid criminals and Mavericks. With stun settings for one, and lethal settings for the other. Right now, she had it on stun, and was unhappily certain she'd be using it shortly. X gave her a blank, uncomprehending look. "Touching his hair and standing over him like that." X blinked, then looked rather offended.

"I told you we're… together. I want to be here when he wakes up." X looked back down at Zest, obviously concerned for him, and Kumba gritted her teeth on what she wanted to say. It's nice for you, that you care, X. But golly gee whiz, did you maybe miss that whole Maverick transmission? The one where, you know, a double of you gutted him and then kissed him as he was dying? What in hell do you think he's going to do when he wakes up with you in his face? She desperately wanted to say it, but there was just no point. She'd said it more gently earlier, but X was certain Zest wouldn't hurt him. Kumba had been in a similar place once, years ago, and she was just as certain X was wrong. But there was only one way to find out.

Zest's damage had been fixed very recently. The paint job on his armor still shone, and Zest looked like he was sleeping, his eyes closed and his face peaceful. His helmet was sitting on a nearby table, but his hair had not been repaired. Lifesaver and the other medics had more important things to take care of than pure cosmetics, and unlike paint, hair reattachment called for some skill. So Zest would be living with cropped hair for a while. That made Kumba uneasy, on several levels. She thought it was likely he would hate it, loathing the reminder of what had been done to him. Conversely, he might embrace it as a symbol of what he owed the Mavericks. Neither reaction was likely to have a wonderful effect on his sanity. Kumba remembered what it was like to cherish scars, nursing hatred with the memories of what had caused them…

Kumba took a deep breath, shoving away the memories as Lifesaver started the power up. She caressed her gun again, ignoring the strange looks a little blond medic was giving her. What was her name again? Cinnamon?

There he goes. Kumba tensed as Zest stirred, eyelids fluttering. X leaned over him, and Kumba winced. Just get as close as you can! Simulate his dying moment! Idiot!

Zest's reaction did not disappoint her, as he erupted in a whirlwind of violence, punching X in the… ouch. Fist version of the Nutcracker. I wouldn't have done that myself, the angle was all wrong, but then he's a great deal stronger than I am. As Zest slammed X against a nearby table and started trying to strangle him, Kumba saw his face. Zest was completely expressionless, but his eyes were like live coals, and she wanted to shudder. Zest was deep in a cold rage like nothing she had seen before. No, that wasn't entirely true… she had seen it from her father, once or twice. If he had really been her biological brother, she would have sworn this was her father's genes coming through. But then, she knew dad enjoyed killing, and so did Zest. Maybe they shared even more than that.

Those thoughts went through her mind at light speed, more instinct than actual thought. She raised her gun, and as she did, Zest's head turned at the movement. He was tracking, but there was no recognition at all in his face as he spotted her. He saw only a threat, and he jerked X around to use him as a shield.

Fortunately for X, Kumba knew Zest's training as well as her own, and had anticipated it. She was jumping to the side as Zest was pulling X around, and her shot hit him in the side, below his right arm. Zest jerked, then hit the floor in an unconscious heap. X stumbled to his feet, dazed and apparently in shock as the medics converged on them both.

"First Angel, now me." Kumba said out loud, to no one in particular. "Doesn't anyone around here listen?"

The second time, however, the Hunters took Kumba's advice. Instead of the repair bay, they decided to wake Zest up in a familiar, comforting location… his room. And instead of X, Chip, Axl and Angel were hovering over him as he lay in bed. X was outside the door, waiting for them to call him in. He desperately wanted to see Zest, but not until he was sure Zest was rational.

Zest stirred a second time, and groaned in pain. Angel smiled sympathetically. The stun gun Kumba had used on him wasn't at all painless. He opened his eyes… and relaxed immediately as he saw Chip.

"Chip?" Zest said softly, blinking up at his best friend. Then he turned his head a little, seeing… "Axl?" Axl beamed, and Zest reached out for him. Axl gripped his hand tightly, and grinned.

"Welcome back!" Zest smiled weakly at Axl's enthusiasm, then blinked as something warm and soft enfolded him. A girl, with brown hair, and she smelled like...

"Angel?" Zest said questioningly. "What are you doing here?"

"Ha!" She sniffed, annoyed with the question. "Did you really think we wouldn't care that you'd disappeared without a trace? Although it took these two long enough to contact us!" Chip and Axl both looked a little embarrassed.

"We thought he was with you," Chip protested. "How were we supposed to know that stupid note was a fake?" Then he hugged Zest too, making Angel squeal as she almost got squashed. She shoved Chip away, he pushed her back, although lightly, and-

"Guys, please!" Zest rubbed his face, as they stopped their horseplay with simultaneous blushes. "Are you trying to kill me again? I think I've died enough."

"Um," Axl said hesitantly, as Chip looked mortified and Angel giggled. "Zest? There's one other person who wants to see you. Um… X." Zest tensed, his eyes suddenly going cold and hard as he remembered… everything. Then he winced, and the rage flowed out of him. That X wasn't this X, but…

"Do I… have to?" He didn't want to. In fact, the last thing in the world he wanted was to see X.

"He's been worried too, Zest. Really worried." Chip said gently as Axl and Angel both looked seriously concerned. Zest closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Of course X had been worried. They were… they had… Damn. It made him feel sick to even think about it. Was that what Dark X wanted? That thought made him angry. He wasn't going to let Dark X control him with memories!

"Yes, I'll see him." Angel stood up to go get X, as Zest slowly sat up. He felt even sicker as X stepped into the room.

They're identical. They're so identical. The only thing that helped was X's smile. Zest clung to that difference, and managed to smile back.

"Zest… how are you feeling?" X asked, and Zest realized he was very awkward and… afraid? Then Zest blushed lightly as he remembered the previous time he had woken up. Looking back, he could see what must have happened.

"Uh, I'm fine, but how are you?" Zest asked. "I'm sorry, I just… flipped." That was putting it mildly. He had been trying to kill X, seriously trying, and there had been nothing in his mind but pure hate. Zest shivered slightly, remembering the horrible force of it.

"That's alright." X's smile was more genuine, now. "Kumba told me not to get that close to you, but, well… I thought I knew better." X kneeled down beside the bed, and suddenly hugged him. Zest stiffened in shock and something close to revulsion. Feeling X touch him was actually bringing him close to something Zest could only call a panic attack.

I will not be ruled by this. I will not! Struggling with his reactions, Zest cautiously hugged X back, closing his eyes. It was so hard to tolerate…

Fortunately, he didn't have to deal with it long. The door opened, and X pulled away as everyone turned to look… Zest blinked, and pushed himself up as he saw Thomas in the door.

"Thomas? What are you doing here?" This was really confusing. Thomas hadn't had a lot to do with Zest during his childhood… his line of work called for him to be far away for years at a time. Zest estimated that in the three years he'd been alive, Thomas had been around for perhaps six months. They hadn't done much together during that time, so they weren't at all close. Thomas gave him a warm smile.

"I'm helping the Hunters root out their spy." Zest blinked, then tensed as he was reminded of everything that had happened to him. Thomas' expression became very serious. "Zest, do you remember anything that could hint at the spy's identity?" Zest winced, and tried to think about it. But it was so hard to think about that, when Dark X…

"Not… not right now, Thomas." Zest finally said, his voice a little hoarse. "Maybe later." Thomas examined Zest for a moment, then finally nodded. "I… need some time alone." Everyone else took the hint, and after some more hugs and fussing, they left. Zest watched them go, his thoughts turning inward.

Despite the video of his… death, he didn't think any of them realized fully what had happened. Kumba would guess, because she had a dark and suspicious mind, but she would respect his wishes. Thomas would also guess, but wasn't likely to do anything with his knowledge. So… if he didn't want therapy, he didn't have to get it. He needed it, he knew he needed it, but he wouldn't be forced into it. That was a bit of a relief. Zest didn't want it. The last thing he wanted to do was think about this past week.

Zest took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure how he would cope, but he would have to try.

Zest regarded himself blankly in the mirror. He shook his head, to feel his hair rustle, where it just barely reached his jaw, the ragged cut ends still feeling light and unnatural. Cain had offered to repair his hair... it would have been easy... but he had refused.

He looked down at the helmet in his hands, and carefully put it on. He regarded himself again in the mirror. That seemed more normal... if you didn't look directly into his eyes, or even too long into his face.

Zest sighed to himself. Everyone was so... solicitous. But he didn't want help. Whether he needed it was one matter... he probably did... but he just didn't want it. He only wanted to be left alone. Everyone was very concerned about how he was pushing his friends away…

Isolated as he was now, one thing his ordeal had not affected was his hunting skills. A small, vicious smile crossed his face at that thought. The Mavericks had loathed him before as a traitor, but now he'd given them great cause to fear. Oh, they'd have had cause to fear before... but only a quick death. Not so quick now, no...

Zest took a deep breath, and picked up a tiny cigarette from the table, lighting it. He took a deep drag from the marijuana. He tried not to use it too often, especially now, and nothing heavier. He knew that with is precarious state, it would be all too easy to become dependant now.

He sat back into his bed, taking another deep drag from the bong, letting the chemicals sooth the too raw nerves, dull all his senses. It just felt so much better. So much better, not feeling things.

He stubbed the cigarette out carefully, then curled up in his bed, not removing his armor. He hardly ever did anymore, except to shower, ignoring the discomfort it sometimes caused. If he'd thought about it, he'd have realized that was a sign of paranoia, but right now, he didn't care.

It had been a week since he'd been revived, and Thomas was no closer to isolating the traitor. They'd minimized some of the damage by putting the weekly schedules on a need-to-know basis, with each Hunter getting only the information of their own unit, but it was causing problems. Zest closed his eyes, trying to sleep… but his thoughts went back to the problem Thomas had given him.

Thomas had explained how Hunters had been picked off in the city, but how Zest himself didn't fit into the pattern, because his comings and goings were so random. So how had the Mavericks gotten him that night? Who had even known where he was going? He hadn't told anyone, had he?

Zest's thoughts suddenly slithered to a stop, and his eyes opened wide as he remembered. He had told someone. And it would make all the sense in the world, if it was true.

Zest slowly stood up, his blue eyes hard and cold as the arctic sea. Not even the marijuana could dull his rage. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. As he walked out through Hunter HQ, his pace was slow and sure. Alia looked up, startled, as he entered the Navigation room.

"Zest! Ah… how can I help you?" Alia said with a friendly, but rather baffled smile. Zest ignored her, focusing on the other girl in the room.

"Nana," he said softly, making her name a verbal caress. Nana looked up from her console, surprised… then stiffened in alarm when he ignited his beam saber. "Nana. How are you doing today?" Somehow, that pleasantry, uttered in an almost loving tone, was more threatening than a screamed curse.

"Zest, what are you doing? Get away from her!" Alia was suddenly in between them, and Zest snarled, making the Navigator step back a pace. He glared at her, eyes icy with rage.

"She's the traitor, Alia. She gave them where I was going. She even asked me where the damn mailbox was to make sure- LOOK OUT!" Over Alia's shoulder, he had seen Nana tense and yank something out. He tried to shove Alia aside, but not quite in time. The Navigator gasped in shocked agony as a small vibro dagger opened a long gash in her side, then yelped in pain as Zest flung her to the floor and lunged at Nana, face twisted in rage.

The slender Operator tried to slip past him and run out of the room. She almost made it… but not quite. Zest first strike tore her almost in half, and he smiled as the blood splashed the walls.

He was still smiling when the first Hunters came into the room and pinned him against the wall, putting cuffs on him while the medics hurried to help Alia. He didn't even particularly mind being put under arrest.

They would find out the truth soon enough.